Every Tom Dick and Crazy
by CLK
Summary: the first story in my season eleven. Harm and Mac move on after a promotion and transfer. Reading FWAFS Rest of the story isn't necessary, but helps.
1. Chapter 1 thru 8

**Title: Every Tom, Dick and Crazy**

**Background**: Follow up to end of season ten. This is the first in my stories based on my season eleven. It begins directly after Fair Winds and Following Seas, the Rest of the Story. This will stand alone, but reading that first will help.

**Summary: **Harm and Mac move on after the change of assignments.

**Chapter 1**

**Harm's apartment**

**0415 hours**

Harm couldn't believe all that had happened to his life in the last few days. It was literally about to turn upside down. Captain Rabb.

In less than four hours he was supposed to be catching a transport for England. He probably should try and get some sleep, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop staring at the beautiful woman beside him. He'd wanted Mac for so long, and now she was going to be his... for life. Mrs. Harmon Rabb.

They originally hadn't been able to work out the logistics. The coin toss was inconsequential. Mac had decided on her own that if she wanted to try for that family they both wanted, being CO of anything wasn't going to be a very good idea.

For whatever reason, General Cresswell had somehow expected a last minute snafu. He had thought this separation might be the straw that broke the camel's back, and it was. He wasn't in the least surprised when Mac announced at McMurphy's that she would be resigning her commission in lieu of accepting the new position in San Diego.

It was going to take at least thirty days for the paperwork to come through, leaving her no choice but to stay and wait in Washington. For Harm, that was going to be the hardest part. They'd only had one night together, one very short night, and leaving her now was going to be even harder than before.

There were a few advantages to Mac's staying behind. It would allow her time to follow up on all the details involved in arranging for Mattie's transfer to England, as well as planning for their wedding.

They had started out trying to discuss the wedding. Neither had wanted to wait long. If Harm weren't required to leave on this morning's transport, they would have gotten a license and been married as soon as City Hall opened its doors.

Forcing himself to accept the idea that he was simply going to have to stop staring at his fiancée and get some sleep, Harm snuggled up more closely and closed his eyes.

**Thirty-nine days later:**

"I, Harmon Rabb, take you, Sarah MacKenzie, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for as long as we both shall live."

Placing the plain gold band on her beautiful long finger, Harm's voice dropped to a low, almost sultry level. They may have been standing in a chapel full of friends and relatives, but he was speaking to no one but Mac. "I give you this ring as a symbol of my eternal devotion, and never-ending love."

Batting back the tears, her voice shaky, and her heart pounding, Mac repeated the same words. Slowly, with her fingers trembling nervously, she pushed the matching gold band onto the third finger of Harm's left hand.

Walking in a quiet haze, their eyes focused only on each other, both were completely oblivious of their surroundings until Mac heard the clear sound of Bud's voice: "Captain and Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr. GO Navy!" and then felt the light weight of the sword patting her gently on the six.

She couldn't help but giggle quietly at the bright blush flushing upward on Bud's face, settling most heavily at the tips of his ears.

Ducking and rushing through the friendly crowd and shower of birdseed, Harm managed to tuck his wife into the waiting limo.

Barely inside the car, he slammed the door shut and turned, pulling his wife fully into his arms. Without a moment's hesitation, his lips descended on hers as his heart swelled in his chest. Mrs. Rabb. He was kissing HIS wife…Mrs. Sarah Rabb. It took all his strength to maintain a reserved passion. He'd barely set foot in DC yesterday afternoon when the whirlwind of last minute details, rehearsal, dinner, etc. practically swallowed every second of time left before the wedding. The only time he'd gotten alone with his fiancée was the few minutes at the airport, followed by the ride into town. Bud and AJ Chegwidden had whisked him off for a drink at McMurphy's after the rehearsal dinner, while Trish made sure Mac was safely tucked away at Bud and Harriet's.

When Harm first saw Mac walking down the aisle on AJ's arm, he thought for certain that his knees were going to fail. She had always been a stunning woman no matter what she wore, but today he thought he saw the heavens open and shine the purest of lights on her beauty. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn a choir of angels were singing over her.

And now, finally, he was alone with the woman he'd waited a lifetime for. Well, they were alone if he could ignore the driver pretending admirably not to notice what was going on in the back seat of his limousine.

It was taking every ounce of control Mac had not to give the driver instructions to skip the reception and head straight to the hotel, where she could undo every shiny button on Harm's dress whites. Their one night together had been forever ago. At least, it felt that way, and there wouldn't be much time for playful activities tonight, either. Their flight for London was scheduled to leave at 0800 hours. The official honeymoon would have to wait until Harm could get some real leave time. As it was, she knew he was feeling guilty for taking two personal days only a month after assuming command.

Clearing his throat loudly, "We're here folks." The driver stepped out of the car and slowly opened the rear door, careful that the weight of the two people pressed against it didn't send either of them splattering onto the concrete.

Once inside the reception hall, Harm and Mac, along with a variety of friends and family, posed for the required photo session. The remaining guests laughed and drank merrily, thoroughly enjoying the cocktail hour while the bridal party suffered through photograph after photograph. All sure that years from now the tiring chore would bring back treasured memories.

With their first task as husband and wife accomplished, Harm and Mac made the standard entrance into the hall with the bridal party, then remained on the dance floor for the traditional first dance. Although both agreed "We've Only Just Begun" had to be the corniest song ever, it was also very much how they felt – this was just the beginning, even if it had taken nine years to get here!

By 0100 everyone had danced at least once with someone in the room. The bride and groom had sprinted back and forth across the room at the traditional symphony of spoons and glassware demanding a kiss from the new couple- the fact that they'd often been at opposite ends of the hall had held little importance to the enthusiastic new musicians. Mac's bouquet had been thrown, the cake cut, and the garter tossed. Harm hadn't expected his marine to be agreeable to that tawdry little tradition, but much to his own surprise she was more than a good sport about it. Of course, that didn't stop her from blushing wildly when Harm opted to remove the garter with his teeth, pausing to kiss her leg between the garter's short advances. Trish Burnett had already taken up a collection to keep the band on the floor for two extra sessions when Harm spotted her pilfering Frank's pocket for the checkbook to start a third.

"Mom, don't even think about it," Harm smiled ruefully. "The party has to end sometime, and I would really like to spend at least a little time alone with my wife before we have to catch our plane."

"Well, just because you two want to escape, doesn't mean the rest of us have to poop out." She kissed her son sweetly on the cheek. "You go ahead and sneak out that side door. I'll distract them all with the Alley Cat. Or do you prefer the Bunny Hop?" Trish couldn't resist laughing with her son. As it turned out, the Conga did the trick. The couple managed to make it out of the hall and to the car without attracting a single person's attention.

"We've got about four hours until we have to leave for the airport." Harm leaned back against the seat, draping his arm around his wife as the driver turned off towards their hotel.

"Three hours and fifty-two minutes," Mac corrected, snuggling comfortably into the crook of Harm's shoulder. She could tell the time change was catching up with him. His body undoubtedly thought it was already six o'clock in the morning. "It's not much, but we can at least get a little sleep before we leave." She'd waited nine years to be with Harmon Rabb, she could wait a few more hours.

"Sleep?" Harm tucked his chin into his chest, staring blankly at his wife. "We'll have almost eight hours to sleep on the plane. I have other plans for the next three hours and fifty-two minutes." Leaning down, he sealed his plans with a kiss. No amount of exhaustion could keep him from inaugurating their wedding night properly.

"Three hours and forty-six minutes," Mac mumbled breathlessly before falling back into the kiss. There was definitely nothing overrated about gold wings and dress whites.

**Chapter 2**

The flight had indeed served as a good night's sleep. Well, as good as you can get on an airplane. At least, they'd been able to travel business class and stretch out a bit more than had they been in coach. Of course, the ideal thing would have been to be in first class where the seats laid perfectly flat, but they weren't about to complain.

Bud had brought Mattie to the airport. She'd come an amazingly long way in only one month. Once she'd been released from the hospital, everyone agreed it would be better for Mattie to stay with Harriet and Bud. It made more sense. Mac was still at the office long hours, and Harriet on the other hand, was home all day. Besides, Bud was an excellent source of encouragement for her. When he told her things would get better, she couldn't argue with him. He'd literally been there, done that. She had to respect him for it.

Once everyone had finally debarked from the plane, the airlines brought the wheel chair in for Mattie. One advantage to being in Command of the Legal Services for the European Naval Forces was having a driver available to pick you and your family up at the airport. With Mattie's wheelchair, the Heathrow Express into Paddington Station wouldn't have been much fun.

Harm had told Mac very little about the flat he had rented. Originally he had planned on waiting for Mac to arrive and pick something out together, but when this apartment came available he couldn't turn down the opportunity.

The car slowed as it drove past the American Embassy.

"My office is in that building over there." Harm pointed to the NAVACT offices adjacent to the Embassy.

Not too much further down the busy street, the driver turned the corner and slowed to a stop by a small brick archway. Mac and Mattie glanced at each other watching Harm get out of the car.

"You're going to love it here." Harm started rambling to Mattie as he helped her into the wheelchair. "This is a very active part of London. There are plenty of exclusive shops for you to spend all my money in. You'll find art galleries, restaurants and even nightclubs. Not that you'll be frequenting any of those," he chuckled nervously.

Silently, Mac followed Harm and Mattie through the small archway. "Oh, Harm!" They had passed from the busy city street into a quiet little alley of charming lined with Georgian buildings. "This is lovely!"

"I couldn't risk passing it up. We're just behind the American Embassy. I can walk to work. If you want to brush up on your Italian, the Italian Embassy is next door. They call these little areas 'mews'." Harm stopped in front of a door part way down the cobblestone walkway.

"Alright, now can you tell me the whole story?" Mac's curiosity was getting the better of her. Harm had refused to tell her any details not wanting to spoil the surprise. They crossed over the low ramp into the wide doorway. Glancing momentarily around her, she noticed the neighboring doors seemed narrower. "Did you have this done?"

"No. The former Italian Ambassador's daughter was in a wheel chair. With her studying in Switzerland, and being their only daughter, he accepted a nearby post. The house had been empty for almost a year. They didn't want to rent it to strangers. He and his wife came to London last month for some shopping and attended that Gala I told you about. When they heard about Mattie, they agreed to rent us this place for the price of our housing allowance." Turning around to the driver who had followed them in the doorway, "Just leave all the bags in the hall, Corporal. I'll move them later."

"WOW. You must be the envy of every officer in town." Mac whistled as she quickly scanned what she could see of the apartment.

"Yeah, all twelve of us!" Harm smiled. "Most of the officers prefer being closer to the American school. I thought it would be more fun for you and Mattie to be in town. Besides, this way I can come home for lunch."

"Like you're really going to have time for that," Mac snickered.

Raising one eyebrow, Harm opted for showing them the rest of the apartment, but made a mental note to make an extra effort to come home for lunch at least a couple of times a week.

"The L shaped living room is ideal for maneuvering around in a wheel chair. Most apartments have doors off the hallway, but they knocked out a wider entry way making it more like houses back home." Pushing Mattie down the hall. "This first room will be yours. The bathroom is wheelchair fitted. Unlike you, the ambassador's daughter won't ever walk."

"What happened to her?" Mattie asked, carefully noting all the furnishings in the room.

"She was thrown from a horse when she was ten years old. She snapped her back. The broken bone fragment severed her spine. They were thankful she only lost the use of her legs." Harm watched Mattie's expression carefully. The ambassador's wife had taken a few extra days in London to help Harm shop for wheelchair friendly furnishings. Most of what Harm and Mac had decided to ship had arrived last week, but they had nothing for Mattie. "So what do you think?"

"I think you done good." Mattie gave him a smile and an eager thumbs up. She could tell he was anxious for her response. His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her.

The rest of the tour of the house proceeded without fanfare. Harm had managed to blend what personal belongings they had shipped into a pleasantly eclectic décor. Mac had taken advantage of her extra time in DC to sell what they didn't need. She'd spent the last week, once all was sold, at Bud and Harriet's with Mattie.

By now it was near midnight and everyone's body clock was completely out of kilter. The next three hours were spent catching each other up on all the missed details of the last month. Harm told them all about the neighborhood, the Italian Ambassador, and the house in Chamonix where they were invited to go skiing once Mattie was up on her feet again.

Mattie filled Harm in on more of her therapy details. The continued numbness, and lack of sensations in her lower extremities was driving her crazy, but the doctors reassured her often that regaining full sensations after spinal cord bruising and swelling could easily take up to six months, and sometimes as long as eighteen months. She was getting a little tired of being reminded that all the signs indicated she would have a near full recovery. It was that one little word 'near' that bothered her.

Mac chimed in with how much Harriet was regretting not letting Bud come to England. As much as Harriet loved her house and life, she realized in short time what a difference the post would have made in Bud's career.

"I feel so badly for Harriet." Mattie shook her head. "I think your bringing me to England to finish my rehab really drove home how silly it was wanting to stay near Bethesda because of Bud's leg. Never mind when she saw that TV piece about the marine going back to active duty on the front line with a prosthesis. I thought she was going to have a coronary right there in the living room! You should have heard her carrying on and on about how stupid she'd been. I think Bud took advantage of her remorse…if you know what I mean." Mattie chuckled quietly.

"Mattie…" Mac rolled her eyes, a slight twinge of pink dusting her cheeks.

"I suppose I could approach Bud again. I still have some missing links in staffing. I've been waiting to get to know the officers here better before naming a new XO." Harm looked in Mac's direction, silently asking her if he should go that route.

"Are things getting any better with Petty Officer James?" Mac wasn't going to allow herself to turn into a Harriet. Harm was going to have to decide this one on his own.

"I haven't had the urge to flog her lately if that's what you're asking?" Harm chuckled heartily. The first few days with PO James had been interesting. She was a lovely efficient tall brunette with beautiful blue eyes hiding behind a heavy set of dark rimmed glasses. Harm had tried not to notice she was also built like…well, he had tried not to notice that.

The first few days had been a slow building fiasco. It began with the PO double booking all of his appointments. Harm had done his own scheduling from the first day, completely unaware that the PO had been doing the same. It had never occurred to him to tell her otherwise. It only took a few hours into the next day to discover the problem. Harm was less than happy when the lead counsel for the US Embassy showed up at the hour PO James had scheduled. Unfortunately, it was the same time Harm had scheduled a meeting with the First Secretary. She had also tried to arrange an escort for the Ambassador's gala, and a two-day sight seeing tour his first weekend in London, but the real piece de resistance was the filing debacle.

Harm had spent an entire day sorting through a backlog of case files, meticulously delegating each file to particular members of his staff in an effort to better assess each person's strengths and weaknesses. He'd stayed until after midnight, leaving each person's files in a neat stack on his desk. When he returned to the office the next morning, all the files were neatly alphabetized in one large pile. If it had been possible to make the woman walk the plank, Harm would have seriously considered it. As it was he had wondered if he could have confined her to bread and water for three days.

It had taken several days for Harm to make clear that her duties were restricted exclusively to office matters, and his desk was always off limits. He was not his predecessor and PO James would have to learn to work under his rules or be transferred. Harm really wished Jennifer had been interested in coming to London. After all, England is an island of sorts. It has beaches too, somewhere.

**Chapter 3**

**Rabb Flat Next morning**

**0730**

The morning light was shining brightly through the bedroom window. Harm had told PO James that he wouldn't be coming into the office until after 0900 hours, but even that seemed too soon. Rolling over, he couldn't resist running his hand lightly over Mac's shoulder and down the side of her arm. She was sleeping on her side with her back to him. Watching her shoulder rise with every breath, he couldn't help but thank God they had finally gotten something right. Kissing her lightly on the shoulder, he turned to slip out of bed, grinning at the cute little noise she made at his kiss before she burrowed deeper into her pillow.

Showered and dressed, Harm was at the dining room table reading the morning Times and drinking his second cup of coffee when he heard her footsteps.

"Morning. I tried not to wake you." Harm folded the paper and set it on the table.

"You didn't. The bed was cold without you." Smiling brightly, she took a few steps closer and kissed the top of his head. "Is that real coffee or squid coffee?"

"It's marine grade. But don't expect me to make it that way every morning." Harm couldn't help but smile. The house had felt so empty until now, and even though he'd imagined Mac walking into the kitchen every day since he'd moved in, the reality of having her here with him was almost overwhelming.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, and taking the seat across the table from him, "Should I expect you for lunch?"

"Actually, I was thinking maybe I could take both of you to lunch. There isn't really much food in the fridge. I thought it would be best if we did the marketing together. There's this nice little Lebanese restaurant nearby. What do you think?"

"Sounds lovely. Just let us know what time you expect to be free." Mac took another sip of her coffee. For a squid, it wasn't half bad, but she wasn't going to tell him it wasn't quite marine grade.

"I'll pick you up at 1330." Standing up, Harm kissed Mac quickly on the lips. "I need to get moving. I want to get to the office before James tries to help me with something else."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Not anymore. Apparently Captain Edwards had her doing all his scheduling, both personal and business. Now that she's accepted I'm not going to run my command like Captain Edwards, she seems to be slowly learning the way I expect things to be done." Shrugging one shoulder, Harm smiled and kissed Mac again. "I'll see you at 1330," he called on his way down the hall.

**NAVACTUK**

**London Headquarters**

**7 N. Audley St**

**0845 hours**

The large five-story red brick building had an air that reminded Harm just a little of what had been his military home the previous ten years. Once inside, he walked through the large glass doors leading into Ops. He had done this almost every morning for over a month and it was still a shock not to find himself in the bullpen in DC. Making his way past various desks, he signaled at ease when someone announced "Captain on deck," then smiled weakly at PO James, tilting his head slightly to indicate he wanted her to follow him into the privacy of his office.

"I'm going to meet my wife and daughter for lunch today so I won't be taking any calls after 1300." Harm placed his briefcase on his desk and began shuffling papers without looking up at the petty officer. "I'll be needing the…"

"Jenkins' file. Yes, sir." Elizabeth James handed the file over to Harm. Jenkins was a bright, sweet, corporal who went UA without explanation just over a month ago. The internal investigation hadn't turned up a thing and Harm wanted to look the file over himself.

Looking up at James with one raised eyebrow, Harm accepted the folder. "Thank you." Pulling a sheet of paper from a ragged folder on his desk, He looked her in the eye and enunciated carefully. "This is my appointment schedule for the day. Do not make any changes."

"No, sir." The Petty Officer stood rigidly at attention. This probably wouldn't be a good time for her to offer the cup of coffee she knew he wanted.

"See to it that Commander Perkins knows about the time change for our appointment today. Let the Admiral know that I received his memo regarding the naturalization ceremony in Rome and will not be able to attend."

This was it. She bit her tongue. She wasn't going to say it. She was tired of the way that one eyebrow went up every time she opened her mouth too early, even if it did make him look gorgeous as hell.

"When you have a minute I'll take a cup of coffee and two aspirin." Lack of sleep and an enormous case of jet lag were developing into a small pounding thud in the back of his head.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Recognizing his casual nod as a dismissal, Beth turned on her heel and headed for the safety of her desk.

She had tried too hard when Captain Rabb first arrived. She knew from his service record, what little of it she could access, that he wasn't going to be anything like Captain Edwards. Captain Edwards had been a lawyer his entire military career, but it had been ages since he'd set foot in a courtroom. His wife, Agatha, had passed on four years earlier and the man couldn't keep track of where he kept his toothbrush, never mind his social calendar. As well as all of the responsibilities of the Captain's yeoman, she had slowly taken on a great deal of the responsibilities for his personal life. She'd even begun arranging appropriate escorts for him to the increasing amount of formal dinners being given. With the serious political climate in England over Iraq, less tense social gatherings were becoming more and more critical to smoothing out the potentially volatile relations of the military and the rest of Europe.

Beth had realized from the start that Mrs. Rabb wouldn't be any slouch. You had to be a special woman to become a Lt. Colonel in the Marine Corps, and Chief of Staff at 'the' Judge Advocate offices in DC. She had just thought it would help ease the transitions if she stepped in until Mrs. Rabb arrived.

Boy had she been wrong! She had thought Mrs. Atkins would be an excellent choice for an escort to Ambassador Tuttle's inaugural gala. Captain Atkins had been delayed unexpectedly at meetings in Naples, so Beth had been sure that this would be a win win situation for both Mrs. Atkins and Captain Rabb. At least Captain Rabb had seemed somewhat sympathetic of her intentions, though not at all pleased with her actions. It hadn't made her look any better when First Secretary Smithfield arrived at almost the same time as Lt. Colonel Baker a day later, but when the Captain saw how she had rearranged his carefully separated case files, she had been sure she could see the steam coming out of his ears. If it weren't for the softness in his twinkling green eyes, she would have probably resigned on the spot, convinced her career was over.

Glancing quickly at Captain Rabb's schedule, Beth made her way to Commander Perkins' office to let him know about the schedule change before continuing on to the 'tea' room. This may have been an American office building, but it was inevitable that at least some of the British culture would seep in. If she had to admit it, she loved how nearly everything stopped at tea time. She had grown quite used to her afternoon cup of tea with some cake or another. She couldn't quite understand what all the fuss was with the scones, but she couldn't imagine returning stateside and having to give up tea time.

Barely finished stirring in the cream and sugar for the Captain's coffee, Beth was startled by Staff Sargent Tibb.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. There's an inspector Baskin from Scotland Yard to see the Captain."

"Scotland Yard?"

"That's what his ID says. We don't get many visits from them. Can't be good news." Tibb shrugged, and returned to his post at the front desk.

Scotland Yard. What could this be about? If she didn't have enough trouble getting into a routine with her new CO, she didn't need anything out of the ordinary now to make her life more difficult.

**Chapter 4**

"Captain Rabb, an Inspector Baskin is here to see you from Scotland Yard," Beth announced over the intercom.

"Send him in." Harm stood to greet the inspector. If he had learned anything about reading people over the years, the look on this man's face as he entered the room indicated this wasn't going to be a 'welcome aboard' visit.

"Inspector." Harm offered his hand to the young man.

"Pleasure, Captain."

"Have a seat, please. What can the Navy do for you?"

"I'm afraid I have some unpleasant news. One of your people was found this morning."

"Found?"

"She was brutally attacked. The body was found in an alley behind the Old Dispensary Pub on Leman St." Inspector Darrell Baskin bent over and retrieved a handful of folders from his briefcase on the floor. "It wasn't pretty," Baskin shook his head slowly, handing over one of the files.

Accepting the proffered folder, Harm opened it carefully. He couldn't hide the grimace at the sight of the first photograph. Even if he had some way of recognizing all military people stationed in and around London, there was no way he would be able to identify this woman.

Harm flipped through the gruesome photos. The woman's throat was slit so thoroughly her head was virtually severed from her body. Although she was covered in blood, it was apparent that she had been brutally mutilated. Her torso was split open from collar to pubic bone. Harm hadn't seen such nauseating photos since little Annie had been murdered.

"How do you know she's one of ours?" Harm continued looking at the remaining crime scene photos.

"We found dog tags not far down the alley from where the body was discovered. It appears the perpetrator most likely dropped them when making his escape. Her name was Petty Officer Third Class Margaret Howard. Know her?"

Harm looked up at the brash young man seated before him. Was he that arrogant, or that stupid? "No, not off hand." Setting the file on his desk, Harm reached over to his intercom. "James, bring me anything you have on a Petty Officer Third Class Margaret Howard."

"I'll contact the NCIS resident agency, and have them contact you to turn over any evidence that's been processed." Harm flipped through his old fashioned rolodex, searching for the phone number he needed. He didn't want PO James making this particular call.

"That won't be necessary."

Turning to look rather pointedly at the young Inspector, Harm cocked a brow. "Excuse me?"

"There's more." Baskin handed Harm the other folder he'd been holding. "Do you have any other missing female personnel?"

Harm's eyes opened wide. This couldn't be good. "Are you looking for something in particular, Inspector?"

"Five weeks ago a female, approximately 23 years of age, was found slaughtered behind the White Hart Pub on Whitechapel High Street."

"Whitechapel?" Now Baskin's reserved behavior was starting to make sense to Harm.

"We didn't think anything out of the ordinary about it at first. Not that sex offenders of this violent nature are that common, but we do see them from time to time, especially in areas overflowing with public houses. But, in this case, as you can see, "Darrell pointed at the folder Harm was looking through, "Leman Street is in Whitechapel. We may have a problem."

"And you're thinking the connection is the US Navy." Harm looked at the additional set of similarly gruesome photographs in the newest folder he'd been handed.

"Well, unless you're implying that your Petty Officer Howard was a prostitute, I'm guessing our perpetrator has found himself a new trigger." Darrell sat back heavily in his seat.

"The Navy?" Harm didn't like what he was hearing. Wasn't it bad enough the American military wasn't exactly welcome at the moment, and soldiers were daily targets in hot zones? Now the Navy was going to have to worry about a sexual predator as well.

"Maybe. Both women were left stark naked without any identifying evidence of any kind. That's why we believe it wasn't the killer's intention to leave the dog tags. Possibly, in his hurry to leave, they slipped from his grip. If our Jane Doe turns out to be one of yours, then for now the Navy is the only connection we have." Darrell wondered what this was going to do to the Navy's public relations machine.

"We will gladly work with your NCIS," Darrell continued, "but since you are guests of our country, Scotland Yard will take lead." He hoped the concerned officer across from him wasn't going to make this an international issue. He had no intention of giving up control of this case.

Glaring intently at the inspector, Harm quickly ran through all of his options. The laboratory facilities at the resident agency were not as extensive as those in Scotland Yard, and running all of this through Naples would only slow things down. If both victims were indeed Navy personnel, and some lunatic was targeting enlisted females, having Scotland Yard take the lead might not be such a bad thing.

"Agreed, for now." Just as Harm was about to stab at his intercom again, Beth James came walking through the door with a small file in hand.

"Here you go, sir." Beth handed Harm the file on Petty Officer Howard, and the bottle of aspirin he'd requested earlier. She had a feeling he was going to need them more than he'd anticipated.

"Have there been any other female personnel reported UA besides Corporal Jenkins?" Harm asked, the open folder of photos staring up at him.

"No, sir." The PO stood at ease. Having caught a glimpse of the glossy pages from the corner of her eye, she tried not to react.

"Very well. That will be all." Harm reached over to the corner of his desk and pulled out the UA file he'd barely given a cursory glance. "I may have an idea who you're looking for, Corporal Amanda Jenkins, age 24. She was reported UA five weeks ago Monday."

While the inspector looked at the UA file, Harm quickly scanned through Margaret Howard's records. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. She'd recently re-upped when her tour of duty ended, and was assigned to the housing office at RAF West Ruislip. All her fit reps were above average. Harm shook his head slowly. Families back home prepare themselves as best they can for the possibility their loved ones won't return home alive, but no one prepares for this.

"It fits our time frame. Jane Doe was found on Saturday morning five weeks ago. The ME estimates Howard's death between two and four a.m., while Jane here was estimated between one and three a.m.. I don't suppose you're going to tell me we've gotten our first break and the two ladies worked together?"

"Afraid not. Jenkins worked at RAF Daws Hill, Howard at RAF Ruislip."

"Same job?" Maybe he could find some small connection, Darrell hoped.

"No luck there either. Howard worked in housing, Jenkins at the American School." Harm was going to need to speak with Lieutenant Philips ASAP.

Lt. Mary Philips had been given the original investigation into Corporal Jenkins' disappearance. She was, in Harm's opinion, one of the most promising investigators on his staff. Though he had some very competent attorneys, the majority seemed to be lacking the field experience needed to fine tune investigative skills. He needed more information on the victims, much more. He wanted to know everything Lt. Philips didn't put in the report on Jenkins disappearance. What he really wanted was a seasoned senior investigator to pair her up with. As much as he would have liked, this command wouldn't allow time for him to personally train his officers by running off on the more complex cases.

"Any other similarities at the scene?" Harm closed the Howard file and passed it to Baskin.

"A sharp precision blade was used both times. Perhaps a surgical tool," Baskin added.

Harm's eyes shot up again. This was NOT what the Navy needed now. This wasn't what HE needed now. "Have you had any 'other' copy cat killings that fit this MO?"

"Plenty. Since 1888, every Tom, Dick and Crazy out there has had access to any information they might want on the Whitechapel murders. Now, with the internet, every and any lunatic can make his crime scene look like Jack's." If Darrell weren't so nauseated by the unnecessary death of such lovely young women, he would have been thrilled at the chance to catch the next Jack the Ripper.

**Chapter 5 **

**Harm's office**

**1300**

"Beth, I'm supposed to be picking my wife up as we speak." Holding the intercom with one finger, Harm stacked the 'Jack' files into his briefcase with the other files. "Please call her and let her know I'm on my way."

Sighing heavily, Harm grabbed his cover and headed out the door. One of the advantages of living in the mews behind the American Embassy was that it enabled him to travel to and from his office quickly without having to deal with the rules about uniforms in public. Even though the actual address of the flat was on Davies Street, there was a communal hallway with the Italian Embassy that led to the front of the building at 5 Grovsner Street, directly across from his office.

In less than ten minutes, Harm was walking through his front door.

"Honey, I'm home!" He almost couldn't suppress his laughter long enough to finish the old line.

Mattie was the first one to come down the hall. Still in her pajamas, she had an expression that bore a tremendous resemblance to a zombie in a Boris Karloff movie.

"I know the restaurant is casual, but I don't think it's THAT casual," Harm gestured in the general direction of her attire.

"Do you realize it is only seven o'clock in the morning in Virginia?"

"I think that would be a yes." Harm bit his lip, knowing instinctively that laughing at her now wouldn't go over very well.

"Well, the last thing I feel like at seven in the morning is LUNCH." Rolling her eyes, Mattie moved the wheelchair past Harm towards the kitchen. "Mac made me some tea and toast with Prince Charles Black Raspberry jam."

"Prince Charles makes jam?"

"You bought it. You should know." Most of the kitchen had been remodeled, making it easy for Mattie to help herself to almost anything she wanted. Rolling over to the fridge, she reached inside and handed over a jar of jam to Harm. "See?"

"Hmm." Harm looked at the jar a moment before returning it to its place and re-addressing Mattie. "I take it this means you're not joining us."

"Not today." She took a bite of her toast.

"Where's Mac?" Harm looked around, suddenly aware he hadn't seen her yet.

"She was in the bathroom getting dressed. I think she knows it's seven in the morning, too."

Nodding thoughtfully, Harm made his way down the hall in search of his new bride.

"Sorry, I'm running a little late," Mac smiled as Harm came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Mmm." Nestling his nose into the back of her neck, Harm began laying gentle kisses under her ear, slowly moving along the side of her jaw until he had turned her completely in his arms. Their lips locked in a passionate exchange of the heat that constantly simmered under the surface.

Mac's arms snaked fully around him. She could feel her knees going weak as his strong hand gently stroked the small of her back. With a greeting like this, who needed food? Somewhere between the sizzling kiss and heated touch, her mind debated over how hard it would be to close the door and skip lunch. What would Mattie think? Leaning her weight more heavily against Harm, Mac brushed her hips against his.

Harm's lips separated from hers long enough to release a low deep sigh. "There just aren't enough hours in the day." Leaning in again for a more chaste kiss, he murmured, "I don't have much time today. Something's come up at the office. We probably need to get you some food and then I'll deal with the rest of our appetite tonight." His eyes twinkled at the implication.

Pulling back reluctantly, Mac flashed a seductive smile. "I'm not so sure food is all it's cracked up to be."

"I'm sorry, but what have you done with my Sarah MacKenzie Rabb?"

Smacking him lightly on the shoulder, she pushed off in search of her shoes. "Comedian!"

Sitting on the bed to slip into her sandals, Mac noticed a far off look in Harm's face that had little to do with the moment they'd just shared.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes and no. Work. I'll tell you about it over lunch."

**Maroush IV Restaurant**

**Edgeware Rd**

**Short time later**

After being shown to a somewhat secluded table in the back of the tiny blue tiled restaurant, Mac set her menu aside and took hold of Harm's hand.

"Okay. Want to tell me what has you looking so disturbed?" She let her thumb doodle lightly on the back of his hand.

"There's been a murder, a petty officer from Ruislip. And… it looks like a UA we have from last month may have been the first victim."

"First?" Mac looked up a moment as the waiter brought the bottled water Harm had requested, then waited for Harm to order. She was unfamiliar with most things on the menu and was perfectly contented to allow Harm to order for her.

Once the waiter was out of earshot, Harm continued. "It looks like we may have a serial killer on our hands."

"Why do you say 'looks like'?" Mac let out a quiet sigh and took a sip of water with her free hand.

"Mac," Harm leaned closer over the table. "They were found in Whitechapel, their heads nearly severed and their bodies sliced open. We think we've got a Jack the Ripper copycat, and if it turns out the first victim is indeed Corporal Jenkins, then the only connection so far will be the United States Navy."

Mac swallowed hard. One murder was unfortunate. Two were unlikely to be a coincidence. "What else do they have?"

"They hadn't completed processing the second scene, but so far the MOs appear identical. Both women were left stark naked and badly mutilated. It's likely a similar sharp-edged surgical tool was used."

"Surgical?"

"Mm hm. Whoever this person is, he knows his Ripper history."

"Then why is he picking on the Navy? Jack the Ripper targeted prostitutes."

"We're still working on that. I spoke with Lt. Philips." Harm paused while the waiter brought their appetizers, smiling at Mac as she looked down awkwardly at the interesting concoction before lifting her fork, waiting to hear the rest of what Harm had to say.

"She had the initial investigation on Jenkins' UA. From what we could gather, the Corporal had a date Friday night and never came home. The roommate didn't report it because it wasn't unusual for her to spend the weekend at her boyfriend's house."

"The boyfriend checked out?" Mac continued munching on whatever the Lebanese delicacy was she'd been served.

"Yeah. He's a police officer. Got called in Friday night to fill in for someone whose wife went into labor."

"Yeah, that definitely constitutes an airtight alibi," Mac smiled as Harm slipped his hand over hers.

"He reported leaving her at a pub in Kensington."

"How'd she wind up in Whitechapel?"

"Neither of the locations was the actual murder scene. Not enough blood for the damage done and position of the bodies. They could have been murdered anywhere."

"What else do you have on Jenkins?" Mac noticed the waiter approaching with their lunch.

"Not much." Harm waited again for the waiter to leave before continuing. "She's squeaky clean. Good fit reps, no enemies that anyone knew of. Didn't belong to any odd clubs or organizations. She'd recently started dating this new boyfriend a couple of months ago after her previous boyfriend was rotated to Iraq."

"What about the PO they found last night? How much do we know about her social life? Maybe the killer is confusing multiple relationships with promiscuity." Mac took a bite of the odd looking meatball on her plate. "Mm, this is really good."

Harm chuckled. "You doubted me?"

"Sorry, handsome."

"I bet you say that to all the guys who buy you lunch." This was such a relief to be able to sit here with Mac and share information on a case. It reminded him of the days when they'd been partners. Only this time, they were partners of a better sort.

**Chapter 6**

**Restaurant**

**Same time**

"We don't have much personal info on Howard. All I've had time to look over is her official record, and it looks stellar. She recently re-enlisted." Harm took a bite of his falafel. It reminded him of hush puppies back home.

"When will we know if the first victim is Jenkins?"

"Baskin didn't say. James made copies of both women's files for him, including fingerprints and DNA information. I got the distinct impression that this is being given top priority by Scotland Yard."

"Why isn't NCIS handling it?"

"Scotland Yard wants it, and the resident agency here isn't as well equipped. We'd have to send a lot of evidence to Naples. Last time they had a serial killer on the loose, Manetti and I were flown in from HQ. We just don't have the staff for a case this potentially volatile."

"Who will be investigating the Howard case?" Mac took another bite. She was going to have to remember the name of these things. They were absolutely delicious.

"Lt. Philips. She already has a handle on Jenkins and is one of my best investigators. She's green, but good. I just wish I had a senior attorney here who was strong in investigation to take the lead."

"You mean a man to cover her back?"

"Hey, I covered yours a time or two."

"And I've saved your six plenty of times, mister."

"Okay," Harm chuckled, "I think I've heard this before."

"Glad you agree," Mac smiled saucily. "So what are you going to do?"

"I was thinking of calling Cresswell and seeing if he could spare Bud for a while." Harm called the waiter over. Looking back at Mac, he continued, "I'm running short on time. Do you mind if we skip desert?"

"Not a problem. Do you think Cresswell will go for it?"

"Probably not, but it won't hurt to try. Besides, this way it's only TAD so Harriet can't have a cow, and it would give Bud a first hand chance to see what life is like in Merry Old England." Looking up at the approaching waiter, Harm signaled for the check.

"What about Manetti? You said she's done this sort of thing before. Doesn't she have a background in profiling?"

"I have no idea where she's stationed now, but it might not be a bad idea. She was pretty good, though, Baskin already mentioned putting a profiler on it."

"There are a lot of good investigators besides Bud. There's Mason and Grier."

"I know, but this could get out of control fast, Mac. I'd prefer someone I've worked with, someone I can trust." Harm watched the waiter set the check on the table, then pulled a few bills from his wallet. Reaching across the table, he slid Mac's hand in his as they exited the restaurant.

"You don't always have that luxury when you're in command, Harm. You have to take who Uncle Sam gives you." Mac released Harm's hand momentarily to walk through the door he was holding for her.

"I know." Harm took hold of Mac's hand again. "This is just so critical."

On the short walk back to the flat, the two continued batting ideas back and forth. They had just reached the front door when Harm's cell phone rang.

"Rabb."

"Captain. Baskin, here. I've got the results on the fingerprints. Corporal Jenkins is indeed our Jane Doe. I'm going to need to interview everyone associated in any way with both Jenkins and Howard."

"That can be arranged." An idea was taking a foothold in Harm's mind. He had no idea if this guy was any good, but at least he was a local to help cover Mary's six. "I'll have Lt. Philips contact you ASAP."

Mac listened carefully as Harm finished his call. When he flipped his phone shut. "Those things are awfully tiny. How do you dial?" she asked.

"James programmed it for me. They call them 'mobiles' here too. Fortunately I don't have to discuss my 'cell' phone with too many natives."

Mac nodded her understanding, waiting for Harm to bring up the phone call.

"That was Baskin. Jenkins and Jane Doe are a match. Looks like Naval Command is our only link. Until I can make other arrangements. I think I'm going to have him and Philips work on this."

"Well, I'll be anxious to hear how it goes with Cresswell." Silently Mac prayed Kate Pike was on terminal leave somewhere. Guam sounded far enough away.

**London Headquarters**

**Harm's office**

"Get me Lt. Philips ASAP," Harm practically barked as he marched past Beth's desk into his office.

"She's not here, sir."

"Well, when she gets here, send her in." She was probably already out at Ruislip checking out Howard. If she kept this pace up, someday she might have his job. Harm just wished that annoying feeling in the pit of his stomach would go away.

Harm began rustling through the files on his desk. "James!"

"Yes, sir." Beth was in the door with the speed of light. She couldn't remember ever hearing him call for her so loudly.

"I need the…"

"Jenkins and Howard original file. Yes, sir." Not allowing him to finish his sentence, Beth handed Harm the two files she'd used to make copies for the Inspector.

Harm looked at her with that single, raised eyebrow again. "I need to speak with General Cresswell. Get Petty Officer Coates on the line and set up an appointment for me."

"Done, sir. Just got off the phone with the Petty Officer. You have a conference call scheduled with the General in forty five minutes, sir." Beth's eyes remained focused on some distant point behind Harm.

"Thank you, James. Dismissed." Harm sat back in his seat, still clutching the files Beth had given him. Momentarily off balance, he couldn't help but wonder if the Petty Officer's annoying habit of anticipating his requests had anything to do with Mac's ability to tell time? He still wasn't sure if James' 'skill,' was a good or bad thing. At least none of it involved anything else with Mrs. Atkins.

**Rabb Flat**

**Same time**

"How was lunch?" Mattie had been lying on the couch watching some home invasion show where a group of decorators storm the house and make it over in a few days using only the supplies available.

"It was actually quite good. Harm ordered me some wonderful deep fried lamb meatballs called, kebbeh shamieh."

"I dare you to say that three times fast with your mouth full," Mattie snickered softly, suddenly very glad she opted out of lunch. She wasn't too sure she'd be too fond of any food so hard to pronounce.

Shaking her head slightly at the teenager's feeble attempt at a joke, Mac finished what she was saying. "I'll have to take you there for dinner one night, I suspect Harm is going to be working rather long hours in the upcoming days."

"Anything wrong?"

"Not exactly. Two enlisted women were recently murdered, and we need to figure out the connection before whoever is responsible strikes again."

"WE?"

"Well, Harm and his staff." Mac tried not to blush. The 'we' had just slipped out. In all honesty, Mac had little idea what she was going to do with herself during the day. She had worked every day of her life since she joined the corps. Even though she had weekends off, technically she was always on call. The logical thing to do was immerse herself in Mattie's therapy during the adjustment period of moving to London. That and find her own specialist so she and Harm could start working on that elusive baby.

"Mac. What are 'we' going to do here?"

Sitting on the other end of the sofa. "Well, this week, we're going to sleep late until we catch up with the right time zone, and when we aren't sleeping, we're going to play tourist and visit some of the sights of London."

"I can live with that," Mattie nodded her head with a slight smile on her face.

"THEN, next week we get started on your therapy and tutoring. We've got to get you caught up on all you missed this spring before school starts up in the Fall."

"Yeah, school…"

"Mattie, you've made great progress. There's every chance by the time classes start up in September you'll be able to walk on your own." Mac hadn't stopped hoping for a miracle for Mattie. For either of them. The doctors gave Mattie an 80 chance of walking again unassisted. Mac only had a four percent chance and she was going to hold onto every bit of it, no matter how discouraged she often felt.

**London Headquarters**

**Harm's office**

**1545 hours**

"Yes, sir... I understand with Mac no longer there, and Sturgis in San Diego, Commander Roberts is both your Chief of Staff and most experienced senior officer." Harm nodded his head as the General spoke from across the Atlantic.

"I agree this could become an explosive situation. It's best to have a senior officer with HQ experience." Harm would really have preferred Bud's keen perceptive skills.

"Yes, sir… Understood… Yes, sir, that will be more than satisfactory. Thank you." Placing the phone back in its cradle, Harm hadn't really considered this scenario as an option, but it might turn out to be a better team yet.

**Chapter 7**

**Rabb flat**

**1830 hours**

"Sorry, I'm late," Harm called the moment he crossed the threshold.

"We're in here," Mac's voice carried from the dining room.

"Mm, smells good. I didn't think I had enough ingredients here for you to cook anything."

"You didn't. Mattie and I went for a walk and brought home some take out from the pub around the corner. It's just fish and chips, but boy are they good! Oh and I also bought some summer pudding."

"Looks great, thanks." Harm gave Mac and Mattie a quick kiss then took a seat across the table from Mac and filled his plate. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"I bet. Anything in particular keep you at work?" Mac was trying to find her footing between being an interested wife and a pushy unemployed marine.

"Lt. Philips gave me an update on her findings on the Howard case." Harm had to admit Mac was right, the fish was really good, even if it was fried.

"Find any connections?" Mac served herself some of the summer pudding. All the berries looked scrumptious. It took every ounce of strength not to interrupt Harm with a moan at how delicious the first spoonful was.

"Not yet. Other than they're both around the same age, and both have excellent fit reps."

"Did Petty Officer Howard have a boyfriend?" Mac inquired between spoonfuls.

"No. She broke up with her last boyfriend over three months ago. She lived alone and didn't seem to have very many friends to fill in the blanks in her personal life." Harm served himself another piece of fish.

"Where did Jenkins live?"

"At the BEQ in London. Enlisted up to E4 are required."

"Wasn't Howard a third class?" Mac glanced over at the desert debating silently if she should serve another bowl.

"Yes, but she got an exception because housing was full when she arrived. Housing is a bit of a challenge here. The waiting list for military housing can be as long as six months."

"So they didn't work in the same place. They didn't live near each other. Did Philips interview any of the friends? Maybe there's a common link there?"

"She covered everyone in housing at Ruislip. Howard did her job well, but other than a polite 'good morning', or 'have a nice day', she pretty much kept to herself."

"How'd you find out about the ex -boyfriend?" Mac gave up the battle and served herself another helping of summer pudding.

"Apparently she used to keep a photo of him on her desk and then one day about three months ago, it was just gone. She never talked about it, and no one that we know of asked her about it."

"Does anyone know who he was?" Mac was starting to develop an odd sense of frustration, considering this wasn't her case.

"No. The Petty Officer was very tight lipped about her personal life. Her parents live in Virginia, not far from Bud and Harriet. I put in a call to Bud and asked him if he could find a few minutes, as a favor, to go speak with the parents. Perhaps we can find out more from them."

Mattie had sat quietly watching the conversation. Reserve marine, huh? She wondered if she could get anyone to take bets on whether or not Mr. and Mrs. Columbo here would be the ones to solve this case, or the Lt. actually assigned the investigation.

"What about witnesses at the scene?" Mac got up to put her dishes in the sink.

"Philips and Baskin are going to hit the two pubs tomorrow, as well as interview everyone from the pub in Kensington where Jenkins disappeared. It would be more likely to find a witness who heard or saw something if they actually did the killing in Whitechapel." Harm followed Mac with his plate.

"Don't you want some desert?"

"Maybe later." Leaning sideways for a quick kiss, Harm set the dish in the sink and turned fully, pulling Mac into his arms. Within seconds, they were completely engrossed in the fiery passions surging between them when the sound of a rather loud 'huff,' and then Mattie's voice clearly grumbling, 'newlyweds!' before the sound of her wheels rolling away along the wooden floors dragged them back to the here and now.

"Oops," Mac giggled.

"I can't help it. I've waited the better part of nine years to be able to do that." Stepping back slightly, Harm let his fingers run softly down the side of Mac's cheek. "What do you say we spend a little time with Mattie and then call it a night early?"

"Works for me." Mac kissed his lips lightly then swatted his six as she walked away.

**Next Day**

**Harm's office**

Harm looked up at the light tap on his door.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Lt. Philips is requesting a few minutes."

"Send her in." Harm waved, quickly putting the photos scattered across his desk into a neat pile. As CO of this office he had a list of responsibilities as long as his arm, and none of them included working the new 'Jack the Ripper' case.

"Have you seen the morning Times, sir?" Mary held a folded newspaper out for the Captain to look at.

'COULD JACK BE BACK?' in large bold print announced the banner story.

Sighing heavily, "At ease. No. I haven't." Reading the name under the headline, "Who is this guy and where did he get the story?" Quickly scanning the paragraphs, Harm was horrified to find every detail he knew of was clearly written for all to see in black and white. So much for an untainted investigation.

"We don't know, sir. From what Darrell, I mean Inspector Baskin tells me, this guy usually writes for one of the tabloids. He hangs out a lot at the police stations looking for some scoop on some celebrity or royal, but we have no idea how he got a hold of so many details." Lt. Philips was still standing at ease.

"I want to know where he got his information from, and then you'd better pray that none of the people on your list of interviews today has read the paper. At least the damn story is buried on page…" Harm flipped the paper, "Nine."

"Yes, sir. Inspector Baskin is on his way to pick me up. We thought we'd start with the two pubs in Whitechapel, then work our way back to Kensington."

"I want a full report on my desk first thing in the morning." Harm informed her.

"Yes, sir. I've also taken the liberty of making a list of all single female E4's stationed in the London area."

Harm's eyebrows reached his hairline waiting for her reply.

"It's just that, besides the Navy, E4 seems to be the only other link." Mary tried not to let her uneasiness show. "Of the 136 E4's, 61 are single, and 22 are female."

"Agreed, Lieutenant. Very good." Harm set the newspaper on his desk. "You may be on to something. The average age of Jack the Ripper's victims was between 39 and 47. Our victims have been in their early 20's. Perhaps he's targeting E4 Naval personnel instead of middle aged prostitutes. After you speak with the Yard's profiler, let's see if you can figure out why and narrow down that number a little further. "

"Yes, sir." Mary couldn't hide the small smile of pride at the Captain's obvious approval of her initiative. She'd had a tough time with Captain Edward's. He was part of the old boys' club and getting him to notice anything more than a female officer's smile was tough. She was delighted to work under a man who appreciated skill, regardless of gender.

"Sir, have you given any thought to the positions the bodies were posed in?"

Harm flipped open the two folders he'd set aside. She was right. The bodies were in very similar positions. He had been so focused on the physical details of the injuries, he'd overlooked the obvious. The bodies weren't merely dumped, they were strategically placed. Whoever the killer was, he was sending a message.

"How soon do you meet with the profiler?" Harm inquired, still looking down at the photos.

"We were supposed to meet this morning, but Dr. Mitchell had to cancel. He's supposed to call us this afternoon and let us know when we can do this again."

"Dr?"

"Behavioral Scientist. Scotland Yard's best."

"Very well. Let me know if you turn up anything helpful." Harm was interrupted by the sound of the intercom.

"Yes, James?"

"Inspector Baskin is here for the Lieutenant, sir. He says it's important."

"Send him in."

"Sorry to hit and run, but I heard from Dr. Mitchell and if we head to the Yard now he can give us half an hour." Darrell barely popped his head in the door.

"Excellent. Dismissed, Lieutenant." The more he learned about this case, the more his stomach twisted in knots. What he really needed was two aspirins and to get home to his wife. His wife… those words still sent shivers up his spine.

**Chapter 8**

**Harm's office**

**Next day**

**1155 hours**

"So sorry it took me so long to get here this morning."

"No. It's wonderful to see you again!" Harm hugged his old friend, even if it wasn't exactly protocol. "How was the flight?" He gestured for her to take a seat.

"The flight was fine. It was the sitting on the runway at Gatwick for an hour and a half that was murder. The plane in our gate blew a tire backing away. Apparently the airport security doesn't allow for last minute gate changes, so we had to just wait it out."

"Well, you don't look any worse for wear. Are you sure you don't want to go to your hotel to get some rest and start tomorrow?"

"Nonsense. I've done this trip so many times meeting Tom on leave that I've got it down pat. You take the 1700 departing flight, not the 1600. If you take the 1600, sunset never quite catches up with the plane and you wind up awake for eighty percent of the flight, and a walking zombie the next day. If you wait that extra hour, well, then you can sleep a good sixty percent or more of the flight, and are good to go when you land. At least, I will be until I hit that proverbial brick wall around 2000 hours tonight." A small smirk teased at the corner of her lips.

"I'm sorry I missed the wedding. How is Tom doing? Still stationed in Bahrain?"

"No, he's flying off the Seahawk."

"I still can't believe you married a Hornet jock. I'd have liked to have thought I taught you better." Harm couldn't help joking with his old partner.

"Yeah, well. You always told me dress whites and gold wings were irresistible."

Before Harm could respond, they were interrupted by the intercom. He was starting to find that contraption to be one of the most annoying instruments of his command.

"Yes, James?"

"Sir, your wife is here to see you."

"Oh, good. Send her right in." Without hesitation, Harm started for the door. In a moment, he wrapped his wife in a warm, loving, yet appropriately restrained kiss.

"I don't believe you two have met. Mac, I'd like you to meet my old partner," dropping his arm casually around the small of her back, Harm inched Mac across the room. "Commander Meg Austin Parks. Meg, this is my wife, Mac." Harm smiled proudly at introducing Mac as his wife.

"It's just Austin at work," Meg smiled at Harm.

Shaking hands briefly, "Pleasure…" the two female voices mumbled over each other.

"Meg?" Mac confirmed.

"Mm. Mac?" Meg furrowed her brow. "Of all the names I pictured finally lassoing this big galoot, Mac wasn't one of them," Meg smiled sweetly, hoping to get on her new CO's wife's good side.

"It's short for my maiden name, MacKenzie. Works well when you share a barracks with a platoon full of marines." Mac was still sizing up her one time predecessor. Harm had never mentioned Meg much, but Mac couldn't help wondering if there had been any history between these two as with Kate Pike.

Once again the buzz of the intercom filled the room.

"Yes?" Harm poked at the button.

"You said to let you know when Lt. Philips arrived. She and Inspector Baskin are here."

"Very well. Send them in." The more the merrier, he sighed inwardly.

Coming immediately to attention, Lt. Philips tried to take in a cursory glance at the two women in the room. Inspector Baskin on the other hand, made no attempt to hide his gawking glare. His eyes obviously roaming from head to toe when they fell on Mac.

"At ease, Lieutenant. Have you got that report?" Harm chose to ignore Baskin's ogling of his wife.

"Yes, sir, right here. I took the liberty of stopping this morning to re-interview Corporal Jenkins' boyfriend."

"I see." Nodding his approval, Harm turned to introduce Mac. "Lt. Phillips, Inspector Baskin, this is my wife, Sarah." Turning to Meg, "And this is Commander Austin. She will be working with you on this case, Lieutenant." Harm noticed the faint flicker of disappointment in the Lieutenant's eyes. Silently, he kicked himself. He should have prepared her privately for Meg's arrival. Let her know it was no reflection on the quality of her work.

"You've done an excellent job, but this case could go long. I don't want either of you burning the candle at both ends. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir." The two women stiffened at near attention.

"Very well, take a seat and tell me what you have."

"I think I'll acquaint myself with a little more of the building. I'll be outside when you're ready to go." Mac started for the door.

"No, Mac. The more heads we have on this the better. Harm pulled a nearby chair up closer to the desk for Mac to sit down and join them, then moved to his own chair. Gesturing for Lt. Philips to take a seat, he left Baskin to stand or pull up a chair.

Standing as if he were growing roots, Baskin looked carefully from Mac to Harm and back again. Obviously questioning the prudence of her remaining in the room until he was certain Harm had no intention of changing his mind.

"I don't want to appear disrespectful, but this is Scotland Yard business. I don't think it's appropriate to be including civilian observers." This time he glared more pointedly at Mac. Any near lustful inclinations he might have had were completely taken over by his professional need to control his case.

"Perhaps I should have made a more formal introduction." This time it was Harm who glared pointedly at Baskin for questioning his judgment in front of his subordinates. "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, JAG Corps, United States Marine Corp Reserve," Waving his open hand at Baskin, he completed the introduction. "Inspector Darrell Baskin, Scotland Yard. As you know Baskin, in a time of war, there's really no such thing as inactive reserve." Harm not so subtly reminded him.

Baskin turned every shade of red imaginable, and almost fell to his knees when Mac saw fit to bless him with a marine handshake.

"How do you do?" Mac's polite response in no way masked her intentions. She was not just a pretty face, and she'd just seen to it that Darrell Baskin would never forget it.

"Fine, thank you. Shall we continue?" Darrell offered weakly.

"Our visit with Dr. Mitchell was only slightly helpful. I think all of us here are familiar with the standard outline for a serial killer. Although, with only two killings our new Jack isn't technically serial, yet." Mary shrugged her shoulder at the technicality.

"Our suspect is most likely, a 25-35 year old white male. From the photographs, Dr. Mitchell was able draw a few insights. The positioning of the body in such a precise fashion is most likely Jack's new calling card, his signature. If we can figure out what he's trying to tell us with the particular pose, it could help us narrow down who he is."

While Mary spoke, Harm had handed Mac and Meg each a file. Until now, Mac hadn't actually seen any of the photos.

"There isn't a single piece of physical evidence left behind. Despite the condition of the bodies, the immediate area is very clean. This is what's considered an organized killer. Something, Dr. Mitchell referred to it as a stressor has sent this person on a quest. There's no way of knowing what it was. Could have been anything from a loss of a job to the breakup of a relationship."

"Shouldn't the stressor be something that triggers each killing?" Harm was thinking back to the murder case in Naples where the stepmother's arrival in port triggered the killer to strike again.

"Not necessarily. Often it's a simple event that normal people would cope with. The murderer, however, turns inward and focuses on his own problems to the exclusion of all else, and then acts on fantasies as the solution to the problem because his mental coping mechanisms are faulty. So, the life stresses that preceded the first murder may not need to be present again. The next victim will probably be more carefully sought out, the murder more expertly done, the place further away and displaying more violence to the victim than was evident in the first crime." Pulling out two particular photos from a file on her lap, Mary handed them clockwise around the room.

"As you can see from the crime photos. The second murder was indeed more brutal, more violent than the first. In the first victim, the throat was severely slit, the head partially severed. In the second victim the head was nearly severed completely. Although the first victim was sliced open as completely as the second, the first victim had its extremities intact. The second victim's left breast was removed."

"So we can safely assume that whatever fantasies the killer is indulging, they're not satisfying his frustration and we can expect the next murder to be even more vicious?" Mac interjected, never looking up from the photos in her hand.

"That's correct. This person is very angry. He's on a mission to rid the world of some immorality. Most likely he sees these women as being as unworthy as the prostitutes the original Jack the Ripper eliminated. What makes catching this particular type of serial killer challenging is they have no outward psychosis. They appear perfectly normal to their friends and neighbors. Usually the killer focuses on a select group of individuals. We're going on the presumption at the moment that this pool of victims is based on their E4 enlisted status."

"That's the only link?" Meg asked. She'd scanned the reports quickly as Lt. Philips spoke, but she was fairly sure she hadn't missed anything.

"Yes, and there's one other thing. The victims probably know their killer in some way. There's no bruising, or defensive wounds, which implies there was no struggle. The bodies are moved from their original site. Possibly to decrease risk of association. The idea of Whitechapel is probably secondary to the more important notion of removing the bodies from anything that could indicate who the killer is."

"So we're looking for a friendly, social, not psychotic, good neighbor, Ted Bundy?" Meg snipped sarcastically.

"Yeah. That about covers it," Mary nodded pensively. The Captain was right. This assignment was going to be one hell of a long ride.


	2. Chapter 9 thru 17

**Every Tom Dick and Crazy **

**Chapter 9**

Harm tried inconspicuously to glance in Mac's direction as she studied the file in front of her. She and Meg had silently traded folders as Lt. Philips updated them on the pub interviews. He had no reason to be concerned over her reaction. She was an outstanding investigator and superior officer, yet the idea of exposing 'his wife' to such gruesome photos brought out all the protective instincts he had.

Mac tried to interject as little as possible. She didn't see any reason to ruffle Sherlock Holmes' feathers anymore. Yet.

"Not a single person at either location remembers seeing or hearing anything over in Whitechapel. Some of the regulars were perfectly happy to fill us in on all the gossip, but not a single one had heard anything helpful. We even returned to Whitechapel after Kensington to catch the night crowd. No one saw any unusual cars or people lurking about after midnight. The bodies just appeared." Mary was trying not to let her frustrations show.

"What about Kensington?" Meg asked, her nose still in the files.

"The bartender remembers Corporal Jenkins. She and her boyfriend were regulars. He still is."

"Does he have a new girlfriend?" Mac interjected.

"No. So far he stops in for a beer after work and then goes home alone. Everyone says he's taking this pretty hard."

"What about her? Any chance she was two timing him?" Meg looked up at Mary. So far, she seemed on her game. Meg could see what Harm saw in her.

"Unlikely. According to a few of the regulars, she often had guys hitting on her if she was waiting for her boyfriend. Even the night he was called back to duty. She stayed to finish dinner and had to turn away a handful of guys. She did stay around and have a beer at the bar and chatted nicely with a few people, but she went home alone."

"Or at least she thought she did," Baskin mumbled, still a little out of sorts from having been put in his place.

"Yeah. We got the names of a couple of the regulars who conversed with her. Two were there last night. Nothing out of the ordinary there."

"We ran their names through the system this morning. Nothing of any interest resulted on any of them," Baskin added. "We've had a sketch artist provide us with drawings based on the customer descriptions of the others. We will be passing copies of the sketches around Kensington later today. Hopefully someone will recognize the non-regulars who interacted with her."

"Very well." Harm stood up. "I'll expect regular updates on your progress."

"Yes, sir." Mary stood at attention. "Ma'am," she nodded to Mac.

"Lieutenant," Mac smiled.

"Nice meeting you, Mac," Meg added.

"Same here, Meg."

"Shall we get started, Lieutenant?" Meg turned to Mary.

"Yes, Ma'am." Mary turned towards the door amused at the virtually monosyllabic conversations consisting of names only. Interesting.

"Sir." Meg silently requested permission to leave.

"That will be all, Commander." Harm couldn't help but smile inwardly at Meg's little attention to formality. He also couldn't help but notice the curious way Mac was watching their interaction.

When everyone had cleared the room, leaving Harm and Mac alone, Mac turned to Harm with an impish grin.

"So Kate Pike was right?"

"About what?" Harm felt his heart sink to his stomach.

"Apparently whenever you get promoted, the Navy sees fit to give you a harem." Mac tried not to burst into laughter at Harm's immediate discomfort.

"She told you that?" Suddenly, Harm was a little disconcerted at the possibilities of what else Kate might have 'shared' with Mac. After all, she did recuse herself from the Inspector General case.

"You know, girl talk." Grabbing her purse, Mac sauntered saucily away from her husband. This whole wife thing was a lot more fun than playing the girl next door. The perks were pretty good, too."

Momentarily stunned, Harm quickly grabbed his cover and followed Mac out the door.

"James, I'll be having lunch with my wife. If anything comes up, have…"

"Lt. Philips or Commander Austin reach you on your cell. Yes, sir," Beth James responded without thinking.

"Thank you." Harm was getting better at not looking at her oddly when she anticipated what he was going to say. The eerie thing was, she'd always been right so far.

Placing his arm lightly around Mac's waist, Harm leaned over slightly and whispered, "Do you know how she does that?"

"Does what?"

"Knows what I'm going to say before I say it?"

"Harm, I can tell time, not read minds. Remember, that's what took us nine years to get here in the first place." Mac rolled her eyes, and shook her head at her husband. Such a bright man, and yet still able to remain so clueless at times.

Holding the door for Mac as they left the building, Harm shook off his concerns with Petty Officer James and moved on to a more pressing concern. "I guess Mattie isn't ready to join us for lunch yet?"

"Nope. Says she wants to take it easy. I think she's trying to give us some space."

"Is that something I should be worried about? I don't want her to think she's an intrusion."

"Nope. She's just old enough to recognize newlyweds need a little time alone, no matter how old we are," Mac stifled a giggle.

"Hmm. Just you wait till I get you home alone, marine. I'll show you who's old." Harm couldn't ever remember a time when he so looked forward to going home at the end of his day. Until now, his job had always been his first priority. Having something more important in his life than the Navy was finally filling that void he'd had in his life for so long.

**Meg Austin's Office**

**London headquarters.**

**Same time**

"What do you think if you and I take that sketch over to Ruislip and see if there are any sailors who fit the description. Then we can head over to Kensington and start asking a few questions?" Meg suggested, dropping the files on her empty desk, and flipping on the computer.

"You're thinking this could be a Navy man?"

"Just considering all the options. It would explain an outsider at a local pub."

"The witnesses we spoke to weren't close enough to hear the conversations or catch a name. It's possible they wouldn't have noticed if they were yanks. We weren't able to interview the bartender that was there the night of the murder. He only works Friday and Saturday nights." Mary hadn't considered the possibility it could be one of their boys. She thought she'd covered all the bases. This is probably why the Captain wanted Meg aboard. Well, if she could learn anything from her, Mary wasn't too proud to admit it.

"Pretty sparse isn't it?" Baskin interrupted, looking around the various corners of the room and ceiling.

"I just arrived from Texas a couple of hours ago. At least the computer is connected." Meg opened the desk drawers. "Looks like I'll have to requisition a few basics. Like a pen and paper." After all these years it still amazed her how little was actually ready for a lawyer when they changed commands.

"Perhaps it would be a better idea if you stayed here to get set up, and the Lieutenant and I inquire at Ruislip? She can fill you in later." Baskin wasn't too happy at having to deal with two Navy lawyers under foot, but he had to be thankful they were both very good looking, and at least one of them was single.

"That may not be a half bad idea. Check in with me after Ruislip and I'll see if I can meet you to make the rounds in Kensington. That way we'll cover more territory." Meg picked up the file folder. "I'll copy these and take a closer look."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Mary straightened her shoulders.

"When it's just the two of us, it's Meg."

"Yes, ma'am…Meg." Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. There was obviously a history of some sort with the Captain. If he trusted the Commander, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for her to do the same.

**RAF Ruislip **

**BX (Base Exchange)**

"Well, I do believe we have been just about everywhere else on base. There are not that many personnel here." Baskin followed Mary down the aisle. "I thought they called military stores PX."

"That's the army. We call 'em Base Exchange, BX for short. While we're here, I just want to pick up a few things and then we'll check with Kathy. She probably has a better handle than anyone of who comes and goes on base." Mary put what she was looking for in a basket.

"Is this pounds or dollars?"

"Dollars. Why?"

"Crikey. I should have joined the military." Darrell put the item back on the shelf and pretended not to notice Mary's scolding glare. She was an awfully nice girl under the gruff military exterior, but understanding women was hard enough, throw in a yank female and the task was downright impossible.

**Chapter 10**

**Churchill Arm's Pub**

**Campden St, Kensington**

**1930 hours**

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Lt. Philips asked Meg for the third time.

"I'm amazed my feet haven't gone on strike. Aside from the fact that I'm functioning on a five hour airplane catnap, when my body hits that unavoidable proverbial brick wall, I intend to be snuggly tucked into my hotel room bed." Meg tried to hide her yawn.

"Maybe I should just accompany you home. I can eat something at my flat," Mary volunteered.

"Nonsense. I'm not far. The Navy's putting me up at the Bailey's Hotel right here in Kensington. You stay and enjoy a nice dinner. As a matter of fact eat one for me too," Meg chuckled sweetly. "We put in a good days work, even if no one recognized the faces."

"Don't forget, Kathy at the BX said that one of those photos resembled Petty Officer Harris," Mary reminded her.

"Right. We'll take a look at his record first thing in the morning. I'll see you in my office at 0800." Meg stood up lazily. Her legs were starting to feel the time change. She could already hear her bed calling to her. "Good night, Inspector, Mary."

Mary and Darrell watched Meg until her cab drove off.

"Not bad for a woman who just got off a plane from the States." Darrell seemed to be talking to himself more than to Mary.

"Yeah. No doubt that's why the Captain wanted her here. I should have known better than to think a junior officer would be assigned a case like this on her own." Mary too was voicing her thoughts aloud.

"Well, I say we did indeed put in a good days work and deserve a nice dinner. Let's put this sordid business behind us for the next couple of hours. If we see any familiar faces, we can question them after dessert." Smiling broadly, Darrell walked Mary over to the restaurant side of the Pub.

A few hours later Mary and Darrell were sitting comfortably back on the pub side of the establishment near the edge of the fireplace, nestled up as closely as the professional relationship allowed.

"It's amazing how cozy a fire can be even in summertime." Mary set her glass of wine down near the edge of the enormous hearth and began stroking the cat. "Is it a requirement that all proper British Public Houses have a mascot?" Mary made a feeble attempt at an aristocratic London accent.

"Possibly," Darrell chuckled loudly.

"Do you think we'll find him?" she asked more somberly.

"I am certainly going to try. This isn't 1888. Surely, technology will count for something. It's not as easy to hide in the woodwork as it was a hundred years ago."

"That's true, but still, we don't really have very much to go on. The standard serial profile says he's a white male between 25 and 35, probably unable to maintain a committed relationship, appears gregarious and normal on the outside, and is probably heterosexual. I actually joked with Kathy today at the BX, watch it turn out to be an over 40 lesbian with strong family ties. We have absolutely no physical evidence trail to follow."

Darrell could hear the desperation and frustration in her voice.

"There's a reason standard profiles are used as a springboard. You know as well as I do that Ted Bundy, and a string of others, fit that description to a T. We will narrow this down. With any luck, we will have at least five more weeks to figure this puzzle out and arrest him before he strikes again. We are both good at what we do. We can do this." Dropping his hand on hers without thinking, Darrell noticed for the first time just how beautiful Mary's eyes were. It was as though he were looking into the crystal Caribbean ocean on a brisk summer day. Hesitating a moment longer than circumstances warranted, his eyes remained locked on hers as he slowly drew back. "I'd better get you home."

"That won't be necessary. I can walk from here." Her eyes dropped down to where his hand had momentarily held hers.

"Yes. You most certainly could, but my British sensibilities would never let me forgive myself." Bowing at the waist, Darrell smiled impishly, hoping his charming gesture wouldn't be refused.

"You probably have a puppy dog complex and would follow me home even if I said no." Curtsying slightly, "I accept your kind gesture, sir," Mary responded in her best Scarlet O'hara, not bad for a gal from Jersey.

**London Headquarters**

**Next day**

**0845**

"Sir. Commander Austin would like to see you."

"Send her in." Before his finger was off the intercom, Meg was standing at his desk. "Tell me you've cracked the case already?" Harm smiled.

"Not exactly. Mary isn't here yet." Meg had gotten straight to the point, ignoring all formalities and protocol.

Harm glanced up at the clock on the wall. "What time were you supposed to meet with her?"

"Forty five minutes ago. I know it's not much, Harm, but she only lives in Kensington. I just don't have a good feeling about this."

"I know what you mean. I've had that same bad feeling from the first minute Baskin walked into my office. When did you last see her?"

"Last night. I left her and Baskin at the pub having dinner."

Harm curled one eyebrow up. If that Sherlock Holmes want-to-be had tried to pull a fast one on one of his officers, the man would live to regret it.

"Get me Baskin on the line." Harm stabbed angrily at the intercom.

"I've tried that. He's not answering his phone and his office says he got called out to a crime scene first thing this morning."

"Crime scene? Where? What?"

"They wouldn't tell me. I'm not sure exactly what they said, but I think it was the British translation of 'need to know'.

Skipping the intercom all together, Harm stormed over to the door, pulling it open with a whoosh.

"Cancel that last request. Get me Scotland Yard, I want to speak to Sir Ian Blair. Yesterday!" Slamming the door, Harm turned back towards Meg.

"Who's he?"

"You mean you don't know the UK's most senior police officer?" For a split second, a fraction of a smile tugged at Harm's lips until he remembered why he wanted to speak to the new head of Scotland Yard.

"I must have missed class that day. Out busting a bronco or something," Meg smiled. If Harm was calling in cards this early in the game, he must be more worried than she was.

A few minutes later Beth James tapped lightly on Harm's door. "Sir Ian Blair on line three, sir."

"Thank you. Close the hatch behind you."

"Sir Ian. Thank you for taking my call… Yes, yes…It was indeed… No, I'm sure my wife will agree with you…Admirably…yes… Well, yes, frankly… As you probably know two of our enlisted females have turned up slaughtered in Whitechapel… Yes, we all agree. Inspector Baskin is working the case with one of my junior officers, Lt. Mary Philips… Yes, I've heard that…Lt. Philips is one of my best as well, but at this moment she's almost an hour late for duty and 'that' is very unlike her. Yes…No, sir. He's not answering his mobile…" Harm tried not to stumble over that particular word. "Well, sir, apparently your office doesn't feel that our office needs to know… Yes, I understand… Chain of command has its issues in any man's Navy…"

Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Harm looked at Meg. "We should know where he is in a minute. Assuming that's what 'just a tic' means."

"Yes, sir… I see…six thirty this morning… yes… yes… Thank you, and please give my regards to Mrs. Blair." Harm took a deep breath and placed the phone in its cradle.

"He's at the Black Bull Pub on Whitechapel Rd. They've found another body."

"When?"

"Six thirty this morning." Grabbing his cover, Harm directed Meg to the door.

"James, get a couple of MPs over to Lt. Philips apartment. Send Commander Perkins with them. Call all the hospitals between Kensington and here and see if anyone fitting Lt. Philips description has been admitted. Get Ensign Healy to call the local police stations. Cancel all my morning appointments, and call me on my cell the minute you hear anything."

"Yes, sir." Beth picked up the phone and began dialing without delay.

Following Harm's large stride, Meg silently thanked God for her long legs. "Where are you going?"

"With you. To Whitechapel."

Chapter 11 London Headquarters 

"Yes, ma'am, Colonel… No, ma'am, he didn't tell me where he was going, but he did leave with Commander Austin," Beth spoke into the phone. She had overheard him telling the Commander that he was accompanying her to Whitechapel, but wasn't sure if it was her place to reveal that much information. Until she had a better grip on the interpersonal relationship between her CO and his wife, she'd stick to minimal information.

"I see. Around what time did they leave?" Mac's mind started scrambling with possibilities.

"About an hour ago, ma'am."

"Did Lt. Philips accompany them?"

"No, ma'am." Beth paused debating with herself as to whether or not she should volunteer any further information. Remembering that the Colonel remained in the office during the debriefing yesterday, "She hasn't reported for duty today, ma'am."

"Hasn't reported?" Now, Mac understood. Harm was about to embark in his role as superman again.

"No, ma'am. I've been checking hospitals and police stations."

"Any news?"

"No, ma'am." Beth's voice dropped to a more obviously disappointed tone.

"Please tell the Captain to call me at his first available opportunity."

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

Hanging the phone up slowly. Mac stared at the apparatus on the wall. What was going on now? She expected to have occasional pangs of missing her job and life as a Marine, but she hadn't expected anything so compelling to be nagging at her so soon.

"Who was that? You look like you just lost your best friend?" Mattie rolled up close to Mac.

"No. Just something at work." Sporting a feigned grin, Mac turned towards the other room.

"Work? I thought you're retired?" Mattie could feel the tension in the room like a thick bay fog.

"Technically, I'm on inactive reserve, but retired is easier for most people to understand, besides, you know what I meant. Harm has this really difficult case and now one of his best officers has gone UA."

"UA?"

"That's the Navy's way of saying AWOL. Unauthorized absence." Mac began nibbling on her bottom lip.

"So you're just going to sit here and worry about him for the rest of the day?"

"No. We've got an appointment with your new therapist this afternoon." Spotting that, 'I'd rather swim in a swamp' look on Mattie's face, "It's only a get to know you visit. The real work doesn't start until Monday." If nothing else, the occasional teenage attitude that popped up so far had been more cause for amusement to Mac than aggravation. She hoped it stayed that way when Mattie was up on her feet again and back to school, or worse, dating.

Noticing the odd little smile that came out of nowhere. "Did I miss something?" Mattie inquired, unsure of what Mac found amusing.

"No, just had a vision of Harm stripping down his side arm." Mac figured she'd better leave it at that. No point mentioning the mind picture included Mattie's date watching.

"Stripping down a gun?" Mattie couldn't help but wonder if retiring to stay home wasn't contributing to Mac's early senility.

"Never mind. Harm's going to be out of the office for a while and will probably skip lunch. What do you say you and I take a stroll and do a little window shopping this morning?"

"Sure. A girl can never have enough windows in her closet." Pleased to see a heartfelt grin on Mac's face, Mattie left Mac to change into something less 'casual'.

**The Black Bull Pub**

**Whitechapel Rd**

Harm was practically on his way out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. Pausing to hold the door for Meg, his impatience to approach the scene was clear.

Glancing around at the yellow tape, Harm spotted Baskin barking orders with a zealousness he hadn't previously noticed in the young man. The crowd was gathered up close to the yellow boundaries set around the scene. In only the few moments since Harm and Meg had arrived, the number of onlookers had already obviously increased. It was worse than a circus. More like an anxious mob waiting for the guillotine to fall. For a moment he thought to allow each person in one by one to have a careful look at the latest victim. Perhaps losing their breakfast would break their enthusiasm for ambulance chasing.

Placing his hand on the small of Meg's back, the two officers moved closer to the scene, pausing only to show their ID to the policeman re-directing the crowd. As much as the man suggested everyone move on about their business, the group continued to increase in numbers.

Without meaning to, Harm stepped in front of Meg for a closer look at the body, unconsciously attempting to somehow shield her from what they might see. The moment his eyes met with Baskin's, he knew.

Steadying himself, Harm stepped around the crime scene photographer. In all the miserable situations he had found himself throughout his career, this was the first time Harm could remember the wave of sheer nausea feeling stronger than his ability for self-control. Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, Harm turned to Meg.

"Call James. Tell her we found the Lieutenant."

"I should have called you. I didn't realize how late it's gotten." Baskin looked down at his watch. He'd had no idea it had been hours since he was first called to the scene.

"How the hell did this happen?" Harm snapped.

Baskin looked up at Harm, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

"Meg left her with YOU. You were supposed to be watching her back!" Harm's tone was sharp, just short of shouting.

"What did you expect me to do? Chain myself to her? Or should I have just insisted she let me spend the night? I took the lady home. Saw her safely to her door. I heard the lock click behind me, and then I went home. That was around 10:30pm. What more did you want from me?" Baskin practically shouted in Harm's face.

Harm glared at the man. He'd trusted Baskin to watch her six. This shouldn't have happened.

"What have you got!" Harm snapped, barely controlling his anger at both Baskin and this lunatic on the loose.

"The ME puts the time of death somewhere between two and four this morning." Without looking up from the body, Baskin could feel the intensity of Harm's stare burning a hole through him.

"If you left her at 10:30, that leaves three or so hours before her murder," Harm almost mumbled aloud, more for himself than for Baskin.

The choice of the word 'if' hadn't escaped Baskin. The thing he didn't know was what part of the statement was Harm doubting, his ability to tell time or to tell the truth?

"It's the same MO. I've been told all her organs are intact, although she is missing the third finger on her left hand, and her genitals have been mutilated," Baskin forced himself to push on.

Harm watched the inspector struggle with the last words. He could see the waves of guilt emanating from the tired man. Did he carry the guilt of not protecting her? Or was it something more? Damn! Harm was prepared to lose people under his command, but not this way.

"Third finger of the left hand. Where you would wear a wedding ring." Again, Harm was thinking out loud.

Momentarily looking down at the finger, Baskin considered Harm's words before continuing. "The profiler was correct. The brutality is escalating. This time the victim shows signs of bruising, as though there was a beating involved." Baskin swallowed hard, not for the first time since he'd started to fill Harm in.

"That's new."

"Yes. There are no signs that she fought back, no defensive wounds, and nothing under her fingernails. Most likely she was struck after she was unconscious, but before death."

Having completed her call to headquarters, Meg had been standing beside Harm listening intently to what the inspector was reporting. Her eyes carefully scanned every inch of the area. The body was posed the same as all the others. Not enough blood to indicate the killing was done on site. This was another staged scene. Noticing something bright on the ground, off near the trashcans, Meg walked over for a closer look.

Immediately noticing Meg's purposeful stride, Harm walked away leaving Baskin in mid sentence.

"What is it?" He stepped up closely next to Meg so Baskin couldn't hear.

Meg had scooped the object onto a small piece of paper she'd pulled from her purse.

"It's from a uniform. A Navy uniform." She looked from the shiny brass button up to meet Harm's eyes.

"It could be hers. At the last scene the killer dropped the victim's dog tags." Harm tilted his head slightly, his one eyebrow raised, silently acknowledging the possibilities.

"Or we could be hunting one of our own."

"Maybe." Harm looked over to Baskin who was slow to follow, merely watching them until he noticed Meg bending down to pick something up.

"We need to bag this." Harm showed Baskin the button. "You'd better have your people carefully go through every one of these trash cans."

"For heaven's sake, don't touch anything else, and I don't need you telling me how to do my job." Baskin huffed at Harm, having caught up with him.

"Then do it!" Harm turned and walked away. Whoever is responsible for this, Harm was going to get to the bottom of it, and soon. He owed Mary Philips that much.

**Chapter 12**

"Where are we going now?" Meg walked briskly beside Harm, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

"We're going to walk the other scenes. Maybe we'll spot something else one of Britain's finest missed."

"You don't trust him do you?"

"Right now, I don't trust anyone. Where did you say you left Philips and Baskin last night?"

"At the Churchill Arms Pub on Campden. The place that Jenkins and her fiancé had dinner."

"I'm going to want to see the file on Jenkins' fiancé again." Harm stopped walking when they reached the alley behind the Old Dispensary Pub. "And, get me everything you can on Baskin. I want to know what brand of baby food his mother fed him."

**Rabb Flat**

**1845 hours**

Despite the temptation to stay at his office and keep pushing on this case, Harm knew he couldn't allow a pattern of putting work before home to take hold in his life. He promised himself; Mac would never come second to anything again.

"Hey. I didn't expect to see you home so soon." Mac jumped up from the sofa as soon as she heard Harm come through the door. He'd phoned her from the first pub in Whitechapel and filled her in on what had happened, and then again later from the office to say he'd be staying a little late to work with Meg.

Setting his briefcase down on the entry table, Harm stepped forward a few feet to properly greet his wife. When her arms snaked around his neck, he could feel all the tension of the day rolling away. He had spent so many years dreaming of a moment like this. Coming home from a long day and finding Mac waiting for him. The feel of her soft body against his was quickly raising his temperature, and a few other things. There was no way he would ever get enough of kissing and touching the woman he loved.

Mac had only intended to give Harm a quick kiss hello, but the moment his arms pulled her tightly against him, she was lost to the warming sensations rising through her like a tidal wave ready to crash ashore. The feel of his tongue tangling with hers, the way his fingers gently caressed the skin at the hem of her shirt, the way his strong thumbs gently skirted along the edge of her breasts, there was no way she ever wanted to be anywhere else but in the arms of Harmon Rabb.

Breathlessly pulling back, "Do you know how much I love you?" Harm dropped his forehead against Mac's.

"As much as I love you." Mac let her hands slide down from his shoulders to rest on his hard chest.

With his hands resting loosely along the side of her hips, almost breathlessly, he asked, "Where's Mattie?"

"On line in her room. Instant Messaging is a great thing for bridging the gap."

"Not as great as what I have in mind." Harm kissed the tip of Mac's nose, wiggling his eyebrows upward.

"Let's get you out of that uniform and into something more comfortable," Mac smiled back at him.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Harm kissed her temple, and leaving one arm wrapped snuggly around her waist, walked towards their room, pausing only a moment to tap on Mattie's doorway. "Hey, Kiddo. How was your day?"

"Fine." Mattie replied without looking up from her screen.

"Good, I'm going to change out of this uniform and unwind a bit." Walking with Mac to their room, he could hear Mattie calling back, "Take your time." Oh, she wouldn't have to worry about that!

**Rabb Kitchen**

**2100 hours**

Harm took another forkful of lo mein. "This is really good. Where did you say this came from?"

"Don't laugh, but a place just down the road called the 'Wok and Roll'." Mac held back a chuckle.

"Well, it's just right for a late dinner. Thanks," Harm winked.

"Were you and Meg able to find anything else at the scenes?"

"No, just that one button. If it turns out to be a sailor, this is going to be a public relations nightmare." Harm reached over and served a little sesame chicken.

"Hey, that's mine!" Mac teased.

"I'll share if you share," he grinned back.

"Deal." Mac reached over and took a bite of lo mein from Harm's plate.

"Meg thinks marriage symbolizes control to the killer and cutting off Mary's wedding ring finger is a way of taking away Mary's control."

"Third finger is also the engagement finger." Mac shrugged one shoulder at Harm before reaching over for more lo mein.

"Only one of the victims was engaged," Harm pointed out casually.

"Not now, but what about before?"

Putting his fork down, and leaning back in the chair, "I don't know. You may have something there." Harm went quickly to the hall to retrieve his briefcase. Pulling out the files, he scanned each quickly, then tossed them on the table. "Mary only inquired into their current personal lives, not their past."

"Well, her theory of E4s was just shot out of the water. Maybe this will give you something to go on. Did Bud ever talk to the other victim's family in Virginia?"

"Not yet, Cresswell sent him to do an investigation at Miramar, he should be back by Monday. I'll tell him to ask about any past engagements." Taking another bite of dinner, Harm felt hopeful for the first time in days. He wished there was someway they could work together again. They always made one hell of a team. They still did.

"Feeling better?" Mattie asked, as she made her way up to the table.

"Better?" Harm looked at her curiously.

"Well, yeah, I mean… the lieutenant's murder and all." Mattie wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut.

"We're working on a new angle that might help." Harm didn't want to say too much. He didn't like the idea of bringing work home to his family. Mac was different, she had done this for a living, but Mattie was just a kid. "You're done talking with your friends?"

"Nah, things are just starting to get hopping. I have to wait until around four o'clock our time before most of my friends are even waking up. Anne was the only one still on line and she had to go pick her kid sister up from basketball camp. I thought I'd come check up on you two before anyone else gets on." Mattie reached over and grabbed an egg roll.

"Hungry?" Harm held the box of fried rice up for her.

"No, I ate earlier. This is just a little nosh," she grinned, and turned back to her room. "You know where to find me if you need me."

"How did it go with the therapist today?" Harm asked Mac, serving himself one of the egg rolls.

"Okay. We'll see on Monday, but they seemed to get along well. Mike is young, friendly, very energetic, and according to Mattie, 'hot'."

"Couldn't we have gotten a 'hot' woman therapist?"

"I suppose, but I suspect she may be more apt to cooperate with Mike," Mac smiled to herself. She definitely saw that nine millimeter making many an evening appearance in their future.

"If you say so, but just remember if we need to do the sex talk again, this time I'm sending her to you." By now, Harm's eyebrows had practically taken up residence by his hairline.

"Agreed, counselor."

"Good. Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

"Why, you got a hot date?"

"That depends. Do you have plans for tomorrow night?"

"If that's an invitation, I do now. What did you have in mind?"

"I thought it might be nice if you and I went out for dinner." Harm picked up his empty plate and carried it over to the sink.

"Anyplace in particular you'd like to go?" Mac recognized the set in Harm's shoulders. This was business.

"Yeah, the Churchill Arms Pub in Kensington."

**Chapter 13**

Churchill Arms Pub Friday Night 

Harm escorted Mac into the family pub.

"Nice," Mac commented, following Harm to the bar. Her eyes quickly scanned the layout, lingering a moment at the quaint fireplace.

"When this case is over we'll have to check out more of the local pubs. Some of these places are not only incredibly charming and ancient, they have wonderful food, and of course, great beer." Harm reached across and took hold of Mac's hand.

"What will you be having?" A tall burley man asked from behind the counter.

"I'll try your house ale and the lady will have a soda with a twist."

"Right away."

Harm watched as the man moved down the bar taking orders, returning with the two requested drinks. "Do you get many Americans in here?" Harm asked casually.

"Some, more lately. With the housing being as tight as it is, more and more of the military types are moving in around here."

"How do you know they're military types?"

"The lot of them have their hair cut short, like yours." The large man grinned, obviously proud of his conclusion.

Mac couldn't resist a slight snicker.

"It seems like a nice place. My wife and I just moved into the neighborhood. How's the food?"

"Staying for dinner?" the man smiled.

"We're thinking about it," Harm shrugged.

"You'll love it. The regulars come back for more than just a tanker of stout."

"Even the military types?"

"Even the military types. You'll find tonight's menu on the board up there." He pointed to the wall off to the side of the long bar.

"Thank you." Harm nodded, watching the man tend to his other customers.

"What exactly do you expect to find here?"

"Something. Anything. Maybe nothing. I don't know." Harm squeezed Mac's hand tightly. "I'll be right back. Let me use the head and then we'll get a table and see just how memorable the food really is."

Mac watched the crowd while she waited for Harm. There were several older men seated around the bar. She got a kick out of the way one man's black lab laid comfortably on the ground at his master's feet with one eye steady on what must be the pub cat. A large orange tabby stretched comfortably across the large hearth. Across the room was the smaller eating area, obviously designed for a family restaurant. Although from what Mac could see, most of the pubs were intended to be family friendly.

Amused by the patient vigilance of the large dog watching the fat cat slowly groom itself, Mac couldn't help but look up at the loud group of men that had just come in. No wonder American's so often had bad reputations overseas. It hadn't taken but a few seconds for their loud voices, and accents, to carry across the room. And if their haircuts were any indication, they weren't just Americans, they were military.

"Hi there, pretty lady." A tall dark haired kid sidled up beside Mac.

"The name isn't pretty lady." Just what she needed, a drunk Vukovic clone.

"I don't think the 'little lady' is interested." One of his buddies laughed, slapping him across the back.

"Maybe you should try a more 'proper' line," another friend chimed in. "Watch and learn." Turning to Mac, "Excuse the uncouth character, ma'am. My name is Billy, may I offer you a real drink?"

Okay, this one was a little more polite about it, but if he thought inferring she didn't have a real drink was going to score him any points, boy did he have a lot to learn. Of course, that line probably works just fine in most of the port dives these guys are used to visiting.

"No thank you. I'm waiting for someone."

"See!" The first sailor shouted. "You're way ain't any better."

"Perhaps you chaps should try a different establishment. Haven't you learned yet, we don't get 'working girls' here." The burley bartender had decided that maybe the 'little lady' could use some help in her husband's absence.

"She don't look like any blushing virgin to me," the first sailor added, none too softly.

Now, this guy really reminded her of Vic. What was the Navy doing nowadays? Mass producing arrogant idiots. Didn't they learn their lesson with Tailhook?

"Come on Dave, the lady didn't do anything. Let's just get something to eat," the only silent member of the group spoke up.

"Your friend is right, you really should try going someplace else. Maybe dry out a little." Mac wasn't sure why she was worried about this moron, but she knew if Harm saw him, the guy would be lucky to get away with a week's bread and water.

"Oh, she does care," Dave cooed dramatically before grabbing Mac's arm and trying to pull her against him.

Stepping around the corner in time to see the foolish young man grab his wife, Harm grimaced quietly, almost feeling sorry for the poor kid as he watched the young man's feet fly three feet off the ground before landing flat on his six.

"May I help you gentlemen?" Harm announced his presence.

"Captain Rabb, Sir!" The mostly quiet one in the group snapped to attention, immediately recognizing his CO. Without hesitation, the other two snapped to attention as well. Turning to see Harm's size 13 shoes, it wasn't long before the fool hearty fourth was standing at attention beside his buddies.

"Is there a problem here?" Harm wondered if he should be amused at their youthful stupidity, or if there had been something more going on.

"Sir. No, sir!" the four voices echoed.

The majority of the patrons were now pleasantly amused with the latest bit of entertainment. These sailors had come in off and on recently, and though most times were pleasant, the loud one had managed to irritate almost every one of the regulars with his constant hitting on the single women.

Harm recognized one of the young men from headquarters. He hadn't learned his name yet, but he was often on duty across the hall when Harm stayed late at work. The other three faces were unfamiliar to him. Something he was soon going to rectify.

"Then I'm sure you have an excellent reason for disrespecting a senior officer?" Harm glared intently at the now serious young man who had been pulling at Mac.

"Sir?" Petty Officer first class David Harris questioned as politely as possible.

"Obviously, you've met my wife." Gesturing at Mac, "Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, United States Marine Corps." Harm swallowed the smile that threatened to spread across his face at the instant pallor that washed over all four men's faces.

"Excuse me, ma'am. No disrespect intended, ma'am. I … I…"

"He just needs a bit of polishing ma'am. Please accept all our apologies," Chief Petty Officer William 'Billy' Hanes offered on all his friend's behalf.

"Aye, ma'am," the other two sailors echoed.

Waiting just long enough for all four men to have visions of their Navy careers flushing down the toilet, "Apology accepted," Mac nodded. "Are you okay?" she directed at the young man who she'd flipped on his ass.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for understanding, ma'am," the petty officer replied meekly, ignoring the urge to rub his sore six.

"That leaves me. I want all of you to report to my office tomorrow morning at 0800."

"Yes, sir!" The four friends were still standing ramrod straight, and somewhat peaked.

"And I suggest you get back to quarters, now." Harm knew full well his 'suggestion' would be taken as an order. "That will be all."

The moment the four men were out the door, the pub burst into a loud round of applause.

"Dinner's on the house." The bartender grinned. He had come within inches of bodily removing the men when Mac shifted her weight and flipped the troublemaker flat on his back. Had he known the attractive woman was a Marine colonel, he wouldn't have interfered, but he had to admit, he took great pleasure at the panicked look on the young sailor's face when his feet left the floor.

"Don't be too hard on them." Mac rubbed her hand along Harm's arm as he took a seat beside her. "I don't think he's going to forget tonight anytime soon," she snickered.

"I won't. But I am going to check out the loud one. He seems to have a little too much resentment for just a drunken sailor."

"I don't know about that. He reminds me of a lot of drunks I knew. None of which have turned out to be serial killers." Mac hoped Harm wasn't going to start seeing suspects in every angry male.

"Maybe not, but it won't hurt to check this one out." Harm took a sip of his beer. Especially if this lunatic had now crossed paths with his wife.

**Chapter 14 **

**Sunday night**

**two weeks later**

**Rabb Flat**

**0245 hours**

Mac rolled over slowly. She'd felt every roll and turn that Harm had made the last two hours. What little sleep had come wasn't giving him any rest. Hearing a deep sigh, she waited silently as he climbed out of bed, put on his robe, and quietly left the room.

It took her a few minutes to decide if she should let him work this out on his own or get out of bed as well. Realizing as long as Harm was up and worried, she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep either, she decided to follow him. If he really needed to be alone, he could always just tell her so.

Tightening the belt of her robe, Mac strolled softly into the kitchen.

"Can't sleep, huh?"

"Oh, Mac, I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you." Harm was making a pot of tea.

"You didn't."

He raised one questioning eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," Mac giggled quietly and took a seat at the table. "So what is it?"

"Same thing." Harm poured the now boiling water into the new porcelain pot one of the neighbor's had given them. "Want a cup?"

"Please." This had all the earmarks of being a long conversation.

"I keep waiting for the next shoe to fall. For the next victim to turn up." Harm looked up at Mac, waiting for the tea to steep.

"It was five weeks between the first two murders."

"Yeah, but only a few days before the third. What made him move so quickly after the second, and then sit back and rest now? What ticked him off about Mary?" Impatient, Harm poured himself and Mac a cup. The English took their tea way too seriously. He didn't like staring at a pot waiting for the tea to steep. A tea bag and a microwave had always been good enough before.

"The original Jack the Ripper just stopped. Maybe three victims was all this guy needed to stop?" Mac didn't know what else to say.

"I don't think so. It just doesn't feel over."

"Okay. Let's go over what we've got again. Maybe something fresh will pop up at us." Mac stirred some sugar into her cup as Harm began recounting the information.

"All three victims were found somewhere other than the murder scene. Meg seems to feel strongly that the killer knows his victims at least a little. The staging implies a relationship of some kind. Not random victims."

"Makes sense. The ever present question though is how well?"

"We thought at first the victims were enlisted, but that broke with Mary. The first two were brunettes. Mary was a blonde. Jenkins and Howard had broken up with someone in the not too distant past. Jenkins was actually engaged. According to Bud, Howard's sister said she was going strong with a guy she'd met here at the base. Then when he shipped out to Iraq, he just stopped talking to her. She'd met someone recently on her commute to work every day and was hopeful he would ask her out. Her sister said it was the first time in a long time she'd thought Margaret sounded happy again."

"Mary seems to be the odd man out on this. Did she have a recently broken relationship?" Mac blew into the hot tea.

"No. She hadn't dated anyone since she got here that her friends know of."

"What about Baskin? I thought I noticed a little familiarity there." Mac took a small sip.

"I thought so too. I had Meg do a thorough check on him. He's the shining star at the Yard. Came up through the ranks on a fast track. His nickname is Baskerville."

"Baskerville?"

"Because he sniffs out his perps like a bloodhound."

"So they nicknamed him after Sherlock Holmes' Hound of the Baskervilles? It's going to take me some time to get used to the British sense of humor, isn't it?" Shaking her head, she took another sip of tea. "You still think he may have had something to do with Mary's death, don't you?"

"I'm keeping my eyes and ears open. He claims he left Mary at the door. What if he wanted more, she said no, and in a fit of anger, he went too far and covered up by making Mary look like all the other victims? He'd know how to do it, and it would explain why so much of Mary's history doesn't match the other victims." Harm took a drink, his eyebrows daring Mac to argue. He had a point.

"I think it's a stretch."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Did you say Jenkins had a broken engagement before her current fiancé?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know why?" Mac set her cup on the table, a thread of an idea forming in her mind.

"Not much. Her previous fiancé shipped out to Iraq. Her friends weren't sure why, but a couple of months later, she broke it off."

"Kathy at the BX told me that Margaret Howard was almost engaged. She had mentioned to Kathy that she was sure she was going to be getting a ring. The next thing Kathy knew, the guy rotated out to Iraq and Margaret stopped talking about it. Kathy made it sound like it was Margaret's choice. Maybe Kathy wasn't the only one to think so?"

"So you're saying the killer thinks both victims broke off a relationship or engagement with someone stationed in Iraq?" Harm straightened up in his seat. This was the first connection anyone had come up with that suggested a possible motive. A broken relationship was a standard stressor.

"It's almost like, Mary was an impulse killing. Something she did triggered the murderer to change his criteria for choosing a victim. She's not a brunette, there's no broken engagement, and she's not enlisted. She is however, missing the ring finger." Mac sat back in her chair. For the first time in this case she thought she was beginning to understand where the killer might be coming from.

"I'll have Meg check for every person who has rotated back from Iraq. Then we'll see if any of them have a history of a Dear John letter somewhere in their past." Letting out a sigh of relief. "It's late. I think maybe we should try and get some sleep."

Standing up and strolling around the table, Mac stood behind Harm, and dropped her arms around his neck. Her hands resting casually against his chest, her voice quiet and low, she whispered into his ear, "I'm not very sleepy now."

In a move that would have made Bruce Lee proud, Harm flipped Mac around onto his lap. "I wasn't really sleepy either," he practically purred before capturing her lips in his and carrying her back to bed.

**Harm's office**

**Next morning**

"She may be onto something. I'll get on it right away." Meg stood up, encouraged by the possibilities.

"Listen, I know you don't agree with me, but keep Baskin at a distance for the moment. I just found out I've got to report to Naples tomorrow morning."

"What did you do this time?" Meg smiled demurely.

"You shoot one little weapon off in the courtroom and everyone always assumes the worst when the brass calls. The Mahan is participating in the annual multinational maritime exercises and all fleet JAG are to report for a review meeting. I won't be around to cover your six, and Perkins isn't going to be much help. Just humor me and don't work too closely with Baskin. If you can't get out of working together, make sure he drops you off here at the office during business hours. I'll leave word with James, if you don't report in by close of duty, she's to flag me down no matter where I am."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Understood." Meg saluted mockingly.

"Another thing. Mac and I didn't have time for a real honeymoon. I was hoping to take her with me, then take a few extra days to do the tourist thing. Is there any chance you'd be willing to stay at our place with Mattie? She's become incredibly self sufficient, but still..."

"No problem. I was getting tired of the same four walls anyway," Meg chuckled softly. "It'll be nice to talk to someone besides the 'telly'. You two go off and lock yourselves in the hotel room and don't worry about a thing here."

"Well, I can't promise you I won't worry, but I'll see what I can do about staying in the hotel room." Harm shook his head in amusement at his one time partner. If the amount of time he and Mac spent alone at home was any indication, they might not find the time to see very much of Italy.

**Chapter 15**

**Thursday afternoon**

**Naples Italy**

At first Mac had wanted to stay in London and wait to meet Harm in Italy after the meetings with the Admiral were over. It hadn't taken long for Harm to convince her he never wanted to spend another night in a bed without her again.

She'd spent several hours happily exploring the National Archeological Museum, the San Gennaro Catacombs, and subterranean Naples. She found underground Naples to be an unexpectedly fascinating hour and a half tour. Especially how the caverns had been used for shelter during World War II.

When not enthralled with one of the many museums, galleries, or churches, Mac found herself strolling the lively city streets amused by the many vendors pushing their wears.

Originally, Harm had expected his evenings to be free to explore the ancient city with his wife, but that was not to be. So far, both their evenings had been taken up with official dinners, and tonight was not going to be any exception. Admiral Ulrich had only recently taken over as Nato's Commander, Allied Joint Force, and Commander, Naval Forces Europe. He was using this opportunity to get to know Harm and the rest of the officers in his command.

This of course meant Mac was spending much more time with crusty old Navy wives than she would have liked. She hadn't minded the small talk the first night, but by the second evening the conversations hung a little too long on her military career. Something she was beginning to miss terribly. After all these years she'd gotten used to being asked how a good looking woman like her made it in the marine corps, but it was more difficult than she'd expected explaining how she could just walk away.

"Have I mentioned you look absolutely stunning in that dress?" Harm whispered into his wife's ear. He had somehow managed to break away from the cluster of brass and whisk his wife into his arms for a dance.

"I'd better. It cost you a fortune." Mac couldn't resist the sly grin that spread across her face. She'd found a lovely little boutique on her walk back to the hotel this afternoon. Since she hadn't expected to be needing an evening gown, it was the perfect excuse to buy a new dress. She had to admit, maybe hanging out with crusty old Navy wives had a few perks.

"You're worth every penny." Harm pulled her in a little closer than protocol allowed, but he didn't care. "We leave first thing in the morning for Capri." The longing in his voice conveyed so much more than the few simple words.

Mac simply looked up and smiled. She could see Admiral Ulrich and his wife making their way towards them. "It won't be soon enough," she whispered before separating from her husband to properly greet Harm's superior officer. "Duty calls," she grinned through slightly clenched teeth.

"Captain. My wife tells me you and your bride are heading off to Capri in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Harm smiled politely.

"Lovely place for a honeymoon," Mrs. Ulrich chimed in.

"Hm? Oh, yes. If I could speak with you a moment." Admiral Ulrich turned from his wife to look at Harm and signaled for him to follow. "I'm concerned about this Jack the Ripper case. Captain Billings has just brought to my attention that the news has finally made the front page in London. Granted it's on the cover of one of the tabloids, but still, this won't be good for us. Have you any leads at all?"

"We have a few ideas, but nothing concrete yet." Harm had thought he was going to make it through these few days without having to discuss this frustrating case.

"I see. I understand you were one of JAG's best." The Admiral hesitated a moment before continuing. "I expect to see this resolved before we have anymore dead sailors on our doorstep. Don't let me down Rabb." Ulrich's previously jovial disposition had just altered to a more demanding tone.

"Yes, sir." Now, if only Harm was as sure as he sounded. CO or not, it looked like Harm was going to be doing a little legwork on this case as soon as he and Mac returned to London.

**Caesar Augustus Hotel (http/ **

**Capri Italy**

**Next day**

Mac's breath had caught in her throat at the incredible view as they rode the cable car up the cliff side. When the bellboy showed them into their room, she stopped breathing all together. It was the most breathtaking view she had ever seen in her life.

"Oh, Harm." She couldn't seem to find the words for anything else. While Harm tipped the young man, Mac stepped out onto the balcony and let the warm summer sun bake on her face.

"You like?" He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.

"Like? This is heaven." She let her full weight rest back against him.

"Mom swore this was the place to come."

"Remind me to always pay attention to your mom's advice." Standing in the warm Mediterranean sun, wrapped in Harm's arms really did feel like heaven. Aside from the time harm mumbled 'let's get married', and when she heard him declare 'I do' to the preacher, this was the happiest moment in Mac's entire life.

Mac smelled absolutely delicious. Even without perfume, she always had a wonderful aroma of vanilla and almonds that made him want to carry her off and devour her, no matter where they might be. Delighted he no longer had to resist the temptation, Harm leaned slightly sideways and began nibbling gently at the hollow of her neck.

"What would you like to do first?" he managed to ask between nibbles.

"Do you have to ask?" Mac leaned her head back, thoroughly enjoying her husband's sweet caress when her stomach announced loudly that it had other plans.

Still wrapped closely together, the newlyweds broke into a rather loud giggle.

"I guess maybe we should try to catch the poolside brunch." Harm pulled back slightly, his fingers delicately rubbing the sides of her shoulders. "Besides, I've been looking forward to seeing you in a bathing suit again."

Flipping around in his arms to face him. "You don't mind if we get a little something to eat?" Mac asked almost shyly.

"I'll have you for the rest of my life. I think it's only fair that I stop and feed you once in a while along the way." His smile was broad and honest. As much as he loved being with his wife in the biblical sense, anything that made her happy made him happy. In this case, a five star brunch was in order.

In record time, they had changed into swimsuits and arrived downstairs with plenty of time to enjoy the massive buffet. Mac had bought a lovely lace cover up in Naples for over her swimsuit. Despite the appetizing array of culinary delectables, Harm simply couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"I'm thinking for our first anniversary we should take a Mediterranean cruise," Harm commented watching Mac savor every bite. She had to be the only woman alive who could make eating look sexy. "They say the food is to die for, and practically 24/7."

"I don't know. This seems pretty 'to die for' to me." She took another bite of the melon and Serrano ham. Her eyes rolling with delight at every bite.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent laying poolside. Sprawled out comfortably, side by side on the lounge chairs, their arms stretched out the short distance between them holding hands, each would often sneak a glimpse at the other. An expression of pride and pleasure made it obvious to anyone watching, these two people were desperately in love.

"I think I'm going to take a quick dip." Harm sat up, not really wanting to let go of Mac's hand, but needing to cool off.

"I think I'll soak up a little more sun." Mac loved lying out in the sun. Something she very rarely had time for in the short DC summers. Opening one eye, she watched Harm walk over to the edge of the pool and dive in. Damn, that man looked fine in a swimsuit. Actually, he looked fine out of it, too. Changing her mind, Mac placed her watch on the table beside her and dove in after her husband.

Harm had just come up at the shallow side of the pool and was brushing his hair away from his face when he felt two hands reach around his middle and pull him back. Startled by the unexpected contact, Harm flipped over with a loud splash before he spotted his wife.

"What? Are you trying to drown me already to collect my insurance?" Harm teased.

"Decided you looked too cute to let swim alone. Some rich barracuda might set her sights on you," Mac grinned playfully.

"You think so?" Harm pulled Mac into his arms. Dropping down so they were mostly covered by water, he slowly and thoroughly kissed the woman he loved.

Mac could feel the kiss all the way to her toes. The cool water was doing nothing to stem the heat erupting inside her. "I think I've had enough sun for today." Leaning back in for another kiss, she carefully brushed more closely against him.

Pulling back before leaving the water would become embarrassing. "Yeah, I wouldn't want you to burn on your first day." Grudgingly, Harm let go of his wife. Leaving the pool and gathering up their belongings, he tried not to look like a lovesick schoolboy and resisted the urge to sprint to their room. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he swallowed hard, slowly placing one foot in front of the other. 'Patience, Rabb.'

Shifting around in the elevator, Harm watched as the doors sprang open making room for a young couple, their daughter, and her nanny. The little girl couldn't have been more than a couple of years old, and the mom appeared very pregnant. At least it seemed that way to Harm. Without any serious thought, he pulled Mac more tightly against him, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder expressing a comfort he knew she needed without even glancing in her direction. Their life was perfect, except for one small flaw. Her biological clock had run out. He had waited too long. Something he wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself for. He should never have come up with such a long range plan. He should have just told her the truth that day on the steps of headquarters. He couldn't imagine life without her and if she'd have him, they could be married and start making babies right away. Then Mac could have been that woman with a little girl or two, and be bulging with another.

Without realizing it, he had taken his other arm and dropped his hand squarely on her stomach. It wasn't until he felt Mac's deep sigh against him that he realized what he had done. Unsure of how to undo his thoughtless gesture, the elevator's ding announcing their floor snapped him out of his pondering.

Silently they walked arm in arm down the short hall. Sliding the keycard into its designated slot, Harm opened the door and waved Mac in. She dropped her bag on the nearest chair and walked straight to the balcony. His heart tore at the pain in her eyes. In the whirlwind of the proposal, the coin toss, the wedding, and the move to London, nothing had been said of the one time baby deal, or its current complications.

Mac had every intention of seeing a specialist when life was a little more settled, but she had little hope it would actually make a difference. Four percent wasn't very much. The way she looked at it, out of the next 100 months, or eight and half years, she only had four months when she might get lucky. Miserable odds by anyone's standards.

"I'm sorry," were the only words Harm could find. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently caressed the soft flesh. "I love you," he whispered into her ear.

"Thank you." Mac closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of the sun and Harm's gentle touch.

"Thank you?"

"For loving me anyway," Mac expounded.

"Oh, Mac. How could I not love you?" Harm pulled her around to face him. "You're everything any man could ever want in a partner, friend, lover, and wife."

"Except, I can't give you children. Your children." Mac tried to turn back towards the ocean.

"You don't know that for sure, and even if you can't carry a child we can still have children." He held her tightly, not letting her turn away.

"It's not fair to you." She let her head fall heavily on his shoulder.

"The only thing not fair to me would be if I couldn't have you in my life. If we never have children, it won't matter as long as we're together. Life without you wouldn't be worth getting out of bed for. I should know, I've tried it." Memories of trying to lose himself in the CIA for six months passed quickly through his thoughts.

Not wanting her to ever doubt how much he loved her, he tucked his chin deeper against his chest staring down at his beautiful brown-eyed marine. Lifting her face with his finger, he gingerly let his lips settle softly on hers in a kiss that was tender and hungry all at once. Straightening up, "You're all I'll ever need," he reassured.

"Well, I'm all you've got, sailor." Thinking, ' I hope it's enough', she moved her arms up from his waist to his neck, and nudged him closer for another kiss. As with the first, this kiss embodied the tenderness, love, and hunger dwelling deep inside, and rapidly chased away the pain.

**Chapter 16**

Although they managed to find the time to visit some of the shops, the famous blue grotto, and of course sample some of the better restaurants, the majority of the three days in Capri were spent in true newlywed mode, in the hotel room. Breakfast had seemed an unnecessary interruption Sunday morning. Neither felt even slightly inclined to cease their now ritual morning activities until a mere half hour before check out time.

Doing a little last minute souvenir shopping along the narrow streets high above the water, Harm and Mac walked hand in hand, smiling like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Occasionally while waiting for a vendor to wrap up their purchase, Harm would pull Mac into his chest with one arm, her eyes gleaming up at him with such love and warmth, he couldn't help but hope, no pray, that he could fill all her dreams. He wanted to see that ecstatic glow on her face for all time. A small part of him hoped that by some miracle, all their love had created a new life.

**London**

**Monday afternoon**

Look at her walking so smugly. I hope she ordered fries with that shake. When did they start letting women like that in the marines, anyhow? An officer no less. She's no better than the rest of them.

Oops. I'm going to have to be a little more careful. She almost saw me that time. Good thing this place believes in stacking their displays so high. I wonder if she saw me ducking? Great, now I'm getting dirty looks from customers. Gees, you'd think these people had never seen anyone change their mind and move quickly. At least it was a wobbly old lady who spotted me hiding and not her.

Look at how she's flirting with the checkout clerk? I wonder how many other men she has batted those big brown eyes at and gotten her way? She probably uses them all the time. Probably used them on every CO she has ever worked with. Bat your eyes and shake your ass. Just another whore.

Of course, everyone runs to help her with her bags. You'd think the ring would keep them away. That blasted ring is almost blinding. They just can't ignore her. She's nothing but a tramp, a common whore. Everyone wants a piece of her. Uh oh, here she comes. Maybe if I just read this magazine cover she won't notice me. Why should she? She never notices me. Never says more than hello or good bye. Though, she does say thank you. She probably says that a lot too. Uses it the same way she bats those huge eyes and uses that great figure. Wonder how much the surgeon charged for 'those'?"

Figures she'd live in this nice neighborhood. Couldn't live on base housing. No, that wouldn't be good enough for her. Damn. Does she have to walk so fast? You'd think she knew someone was following her. No, she couldn't. Could she? I'd better back off just a bit anyhow, but I don't want to lose her. Holy crap, she's stopping at the bakery too. Doesn't this woman have a budget? Or does her sugar daddy take care of that too? You'd think someone with a sweet tooth wouldn't have such a drop dead gorgeous figure. She'd probably turn into an old fat woman anyhow, not that I'm going to let that happen. Women like her need to learn. Someone has to teach them respect.

How much further to her place? For crying out loud, even marines don't want to walk all over London carrying their groceries. Ah, so that's the place. Nice little mews. Not much traffic. No one will ever notice. I can just wait in this corner here. I doubt anyone will spot me. They never do. I'll wait till dark. This one will be easy.

The thin sharp blade caught a shimmer of fading sunlight. Slowly twirling the knife, fascinated by the light shining off the silvery steel. This will be so easy. This time she'll learn. They'll all learn.

**Harm's office**

**Earlier that morning**

"What did you manage to come up with?" Harm asked, directing Meg to take a seat.

"It looks like Mac might be onto something. Of the 760 military personnel currently in the London area, it appears that 118 have returned from at least one tour in Iraq in the last year. We're still trying to narrow down how many of those received some sort of Dear John letter." Meg let out a short sigh.

"Something wrong?"

"Well, it would help if broken engagements were part of everyone's service records, but they're not. I've been interviewing personnel for a week straight since you left, and I've barely put a dent in my list. I can't even eliminate the married personnel. There's no way of knowing if a previously broken engagement left deep seeded resentments."

"You said we might be onto something?"

"Yes, so far I've uncovered five enlisted and two officers with broken engagements, and as I said, I've barely scratched the surface." Meg handed Harm a list of personnel.

"Better double check all these names against any incident reports. Check their medical histories. Check their rotation evals. See if any have been recommended for extended therapy. All of these guys should have had at least a quick pass through with the Navy shrink before returning to duty here." Harm looked up as Meg dropped another file in front of him. A short grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw the satisfied smile on her face. This was after all, why he asked for a senior officer with HQ experience.

"So far only one has a red flag. Your Petty Officer Harris." Meg controlled her enthusiasm, but couldn't keep one side of her face from twitching upwards in a satisfied smirk.

"MY Petty Officer?"

"You know, the one who had a few choice words for your wife?"

The hairs on the back of Harm's neck stood on edge. Opening the file slowly, he leaned back in his chair and began reading.

"Baskin agrees with me, this guy is on the hook. If you agree, they're willing to put a man on him?" Meg waited patiently for Harm's reaction to the information in front of him.

"No. We'll use our own. Call Ruislip, have a couple of MP's, innocuous ones, assigned to tail this guy." Harm resisted the urge to let out a quiet whistle. From the day he got his Dear John letter, Harris had spent more time in the brig than out. "He put his ex-fiancée's new husband in the hospital?" Harm paused to look up.

"On their wedding day."

"And he's not in the brig because…?" Harm scanned quickly down the file.

"Neither the ex nor her husband was willing to press charges with the local police. The JAG prosecutor wasn't so lenient, so he cut a deal with the Navy, thirty days in the brig. The deal made sure to include one more violent incident and he'd be out of the Navy. Dishonorable discharge. He's been clean as a whistle since then."

"When did he get out?" Harm froze at the date on the next sheet of paper.

"Uh huh. Twelve weeks ago." Meg sat back. She still had over sixty people to interview and follow up on, but she couldn't possibly expect to find anything closer to their mark than this.

If this turns out to be the guy, things could end sooner than later. If it's not, then Meg was going to need more help.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? I want Mac to hear all this." Harm reached over and dialed his home.

"Sure, I've gotten used to having company for dinner anyhow," Meg smiled.

"Hey, Mac. Listen, Meg has had a couple of possibilities turn up… Mm hm… That's what I was thinking… I've invited her to dinner tonight….. Good…" Harm bit back a small smile at his wife's short comment about having to keep her hands off him till dessert. "We'll try to be home by 1730… I love you too." Trying not to blush at the last line, Harm hung up the phone and faced Meg.

"She's going to run to the market and pick up a few things for dinner. It seems all that Italian food inspired her to try her hand at a new recipe she got from an overly friendly sales woman in Naples, and she's been looking for a good excuse to try the bakery around the corner."

**Chapter 17**

**Alley behind Good Samaritan Pub**

**Turner Street, Whitechapel**

**0215**

For a woman, she certainly weighs a ton. Probably all that Marine muscle, for all the good it did her. Just like all the others, she never saw the chloroform coming. It was so easy. It's always so easy. Women like this never learned to use their minds, only their bodies. Always luring unsuspecting men. Not anymore. I'll show them. I'll show them all.

**Rabb Flat**

**0430**

Harm rolled over sleepily. Slowly the ringing in the distance penetrated his groggy dreams. It hadn't been long since he'd stopped tossing and turning and finally fallen into a sound sleep. He was going to have to do something about having a phone installed in the bedroom. It made no sense to him that the only phone line was in the kitchen. On the other hand, maybe the Brits had something there. Perhaps not having a phone at every step wasn't such a bad thing.

Stumbling out of bed, he made it to the kitchen just in time to hear Meg Austin mumble something about, "I'll tell him right away," as she lazily tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes with her free hand.

"Sorry about that," Harm managed to get out despite the stifling yawn. "When I suggested it was too late to go home and you just stay over, I hadn't expected anyone to be calling at…" looking up at the clock with one eye, "zero four thirty."

"That was Baskin." Meg brushed her hair away from her face.

"Damn. Where?"

"Good Samaritan Pub, Whitechapel. Think Mattie will mind if I use her shower? It will save us some time."

"No. That's the great thing about teenagers, they can sleep through a typhoon."

"Want some company?" Mac yawned sleepily from the hallway.

"An extra pair of eyes never hurt." Meg shrugged one shoulder at Harm.

"Agreed. You two hit the showers first. I'll put on a quick pot of coffee."

"Better make it marine grade. It could be a long morning," Mac called over her shoulder on her way back to their room. Turning to Meg, she said, "Let me get you a clean towel. Need anything else?"

"Nope. I still have a basket of laundry I was going to need to pick up. Guess being forgetful Sunday night has its advantages." Meg accepted the towel Mac was pulling out of the linen closet and turned towards Mattie's room.

**Good Samaritan Pub**

**Whitechapel**

**Later that morning**

Harm quickly paid the cabby and hurried to catch up with Mac and Meg.

"Anyone mind waiting for the CO?" Harm teased.

The only advantage to being dragged out of bed at this godforsaken hour of the morning was the lack of a crowd. Harm could see the body just behind where Mac and Meg had paused to wait for him.

"What have we got?" Meg turned to Baskin.

"Same thing. Female, early twenties, naked, head completely severed, torso dissected, mutilated, posed. With the exception of no missing fingers, this fits with the expected escalation of anger," Baskin ran off quickly.

"Any ID?" Meg inquired, already scanning the surroundings for additional evidence.

"Harm, Meg!" Mac called from the other side of the alley.

"What?" Meg was the first to catch up to her.

"How much would you like to bet that came from our victim?" Holding her arm straight out, Mac pointed to a very large solitaire diamond ring.

"Wheeew," Meg whistled loudly. "That cost someone a pretty penny."

"No kidding," Baskin chimed in. "As I started to tell you, we haven't found anything to identify the victim, but if that rock was hers, someone should remember her."

"Inspector!" A tall gangly man who didn't look old enough to be out of high school came running down the alley.

"What is it Grayson?"

"Up the street, last alley before the tube station, we've found an American Marine's uniform in the wheely bin. Dog tags too." Grayson turned to lead the way four blocks down the road.

"Wheely bin?" Meg repeated softly.

"Trash bin," Baskin replied, taking off after Grayson at a near trot.

"How far are your people searching?" Harm inquired three blocks into the trek.

"I gave orders to search all the way to Buckingham Palace if necessary."

Arriving at the alley, slightly out of breath, Baskin leaned over the contents of the trash that had been spewed on the ground. Carefully poking with one end of a pen, he flipped the tags. "Captain Elizabeth Russell."

"Damn," Harm mumbled under his breath. Marines, Navy, officers, enlisted. "I want to know where she's stationed, if that ring was hers, and I want to know yesterday." Harm wasn't speaking to anyone in particular but Meg flipped her cell phone open immediately.

"Petty Officer? Sorry to start your day so early, but we need some info, ASAP."

RAF Ruislip 

"I appreciate your coming along." Meg pushed open the door to the exchange.

"This whole thing is starting to get under my skin too." Mac followed Meg into the large building.

"I wish we could just pin down the connection on all this." The frustration in Meg's voice was clear to everyone.

"Well, at least we know the ring was hers. Somewhere her engagement has something to do with this."

"But I thought we were working on the premise of broken engagements?"

"Maybe. Maybe we're being too narrow minded." Mac paused to take a deep breath. "Okay, we know she's engaged to some hot shot lawyer down on Bond Street. She lives in a nice neighborhood in Kensington."

"That seems to be popping up rather often doesn't it?" Meg interrupted.

"Three out of four. Do we know if Howard had any business in Kensington?"

"No. The woman was a virtual recluse. I'm lucky I even know her name, rank and serial number." Meg rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Kensington could be a factor. Somehow, the killer's and victim's paths might cross there."

"Which could mean the killer lives there, and that's why he moves the bodies someplace else."

"Good. We need to find out who was in the picture with Captain Russell before the lawyer. I'm betting there's a connection to a soldier in Iraq." Mac pointed up at Meg, a fiery look in her eyes.

"Then you're still thinking the broken engagement thing is the main connection?"

"I'm thinking it has to fit in somewhere." Mac turned the corner and strolled up to Kathy's counter. "Hi."

"Hello, Mrs. Rabb. Nice to see you back so soon," Kathy smiled brightly.

"Well, I'm keeping Commander Austin here company while she does a little investigation and I suggested you probably know more people than anyone else on the base."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Kathy blushed.

"Do you know this woman?" Meg showed Kathy the personnel photo of Elizabeth Russell.

"Yeah, Captain Russell. Everyone knows her. She landed some big fish downtown. Broke up with the nicest fellow, too." Kathy looked closely at the photo Meg had handed her, completely oblivious to the way Mac and Meg looked at each other.

"Broke up?" Meg repeated.

"Yeah. Nice guy. They'd been dating for a while."

"Were they engaged?" Mac asked casually.

"Not that I know of, but they were incredibly smitten with each other. Made a really great couple, even after Bobby came back from Iraq. Some of those boys come back with problems, but not Bobby. He came back with his head straight and one thing on his mind. Betsy."

"What happened?" Meg and Mac glanced at each other briefly. Bingo. The other ominous connection, Iraq.

"Don't know. Bobby rotated home and the next thing I know, Betsy is wearing that ring, and you have to know Bobby sure as heck couldn't afford it."

"Does Bobby have a last name?" Meg pulled out a paper and pen.

"Major Robert Harris."

Mac and Meg did another one of those silent 'Do you notice what I notice' things.

"You wouldn't happen to know if he's any relation to Petty Officer David Harris?"

"Sure, Bobby is Dave's big brother."


	3. Chapter 18 thru 23

**Every Tom Dick and Crazy **

**Chapter 18 **

**Churchill Arms Pub**

**Kensington**

**1900 hours**

"You look lovely." Harm stood up as Meg approached the table.

"You don't look so bad yourself." Meg leaned over and kissed Harm on the cheek. Even though they were gathering to discuss the case over dinner and out of uniform, they still had that old familiarity. "Where's Mac?"

"She should be here soon. She wanted to make sure Mattie was all set, but Harriet called in the middle of fixing supper and she had to turn it off. I really need to get additional phone lines, or at least a portable phone. The phone was about two feet short of allowing her to reach the stove." Harm couldn't help chuckling. Mac had been delighted to hear from Harriet, but her frustration at not being able to cook and talk at the same time had been almost comical.

Neither of them had noticed the table in the opposite corner. A slim figure blended into the shadows. Too far away to hear, close enough to see.

"I want to wait for Mac to order, but we can have a drink while we're waiting, or play a game of darts if you like." Raising his arm to wave at the bartender, Harm let his hand fall casually on Meg's shoulder. "What will you have?"

"Just a Coke please."

Lifting his hand off her shoulder, Harm gestured toward Meg. "The lady will have a Coke. I'll have a Guinness please."

"There's a nice quiet table over there." Meg pointed to an isolated corner in the restaurant portion of the pub. "We should be able to talk without anyone overhearing."

"Don't want to play, or are you afraid I'm too good for you?" Harm pressed, watching the bartender approach.

"In your dreams," Meg's head fell back with laughter. The quiet observer slowly seethed at the interaction.

Meg picked up the drink placed in front of her, watched Harm hand the bartender a few bills, then made her way to the dart board, still oblivious to the eyes focused on her.

"You've been holding back on me. Where'd you learn to play darts like that?" Harm stepped up next to Meg, retrieving his darts from the board, not giving a second thought to how standing so closely to her looked to someone across the room.

"Harm, I'm from Texas. You have to do something else in a bar besides ride a mechanical bull!" Shaking her head playfully, Meg turned and brushed up against Harm, whispering in his ear, "Need me to spot you a handicap?"

"No, thanks. I know when it's time to move on." Without thinking, Harm picked up his drink, his free hand gently resting on the small of her back as he maneuvered them through the crowded tables to the quiet table on the other side of the room. Neither noticed the person at the other end of the pub leaving, grumbling quietly to no one in particular.

A little less than half an hour later, Mac came through the front door. Spotting them immediately, she quickly made her way past the crowds and took a seat beside her husband. "Sorry, I'm late."

Resting his hand on hers, Harm leaned over and gently met Mac's lips in a soft greeting. "No problem. I like the way you say hello."

"And it really took you two nine years to figure this out?" Meg couldn't help rolling her eyes. She had always known Harm would be hard to reel in, but she hadn't figured anybody as much in love as he was with Mac would be quite 'that' slow to catch on.

Squeezing his wife's hand, "Don't remind me." Standing up, Harm looked at Mac for confirmation. "Soda with a twist?"

"Please," she nodded, her eyes following her husband to the bar. "Did you guys go over very much?" she inquired, still keeping an eye on Harm.

"No, we've just been catching up on other things." Meg watched Mac for a few moments, amused at the slight blush that filled her cheeks when Harm grinned and winked at her from the bar. Meg just didn't get it. Any idiot could see how much in love they were. What in heaven's name took nine years?

"Is Baskin coming?" Mac glanced back at Meg.

"No. Harm still doesn't trust him."

"I know. I figured that's why he's letting me help, but I thought he'd at least let him in on this."

"He's keeping him at arms length, and making sure I do too. Only including him when absolutely necessary." Meg shrugged one shoulder.

"Have you come up with anything to indicate he could be a real suspect?"

"No. I have to admit, I was leaning towards Harm's theory that Mary was made to fit the pattern to cover up a crime of passion, but now with Captain Russell's death, our original theory of enlisted only doesn't hold water. Mary isn't the exception any more. I think Harm is just upset that he wasn't able to cover her back himself." Meg hoped she hadn't overstepped her bounds.

"I agree. It's the hero complex in him. It didn't help any when we discovered that PO Harris' only solid alibi was being on duty the night Mary was killed. If Harm's right, both could still be guilty." Mac watched as Harm made his way closer to the table. Instead of getting shorter, the list of suspects was only growing.

"Sudden rush," he apologized, handing her the drink. "We might as well order and get to work."

Nodding their heads, Meg and Mac each pulled out a notebook. One by one they went over the new suspects, and eliminated others. Meg had tracked down Captain Russell's fiancé and was able to verify what the lady from the BX had told them. She had indeed broken up with her boyfriend when this guy finally filed for divorce. They'd spent a quiet dinner at her apartment, but he didn't stay over. Apparently he'd been trying to give his soon-to-be ex-wife as little motive as possible for an extra piece of his assets in the divorce settlement.

Still reading the information from her notes, Meg's phone rang.

"Commander Austin… Yes, sir… Thank you for getting back to me…. Yes, I'm sorry for your loss…I see….When was that?….I'm sorry what was the name again?….and the address?…" All the color washed from Meg's face. "Got it… yes, sir… thank you again." Flipping her phone shut, Meg took a deep breath.

"Who was that?" Harm's voice showed his concern for his old friend.

"Paul Sullivan. Margaret Howard's date."

"Date?" Harm and Mac echoed.

"Bud called me just before I'd left the office. Margaret's sister called him. She found a letter that Margaret had sent with the new guy's name and the name of his law firm. He had a client with him and couldn't talk much when I called. Apparently the night before she died was their first date. He didn't know what had happened to her after that, and when Margaret's phone was disconnected, he assumed she'd been transferred in a hurry."

"Law firm?" Mac couldn't help wondering if that was a coincidence.

"That's what I thought. If we come up with anymore possible links, this puzzle is going to be the size of Africa," Meg practically grumbled. "But here's something. You know how we think there may be a connection with Kensington?"

Mac nodded her head. Harm listened.

"Three guesses where they went for dinner, and the first two don't count."

"Kensington," Harm and Mac sighed simultaneously.

"Yup. Some place called Il Portico on Kensington High Street."

"That gives us two concrete connections. All victims had some relationship with men stationed in Iraq and were on a date of some sort in Kensington." Mac bit her lower lip. "How long will it take to check how many of our guys returned from Iraq live in Kensington?"

"I just need to access the computer at work. First thing in the morning?" Meg sat back, satisfied with their progress.

**Harm's office**

**Next morning**

"JAMES!" Harm called to his yeoman.

"Sir?" With the speed of light, she appeared in front of his desk.

"Who left this?" Harm held up a plain white envelope.

"I don't know, sir. It was on your desk when I got here."

"Check with the MPs. No, have whoever is on duty report to my office. I want to know everyone who was anywhere near my office from the moment I left until you arrived this morning."

"Aye, aye, sir." Turning on her heel, Beth scurried out of the office. Something big was happening.

Lifting the handset from the base, Harm dialed Meg's extension. "I've got something you need to see, and then we're going to have to contact Baskin."

He hadn't wanted to deal with Baskin yet. He'd wanted to find more conclusive evidence one way or another, but the paper on his desk was practically shouting at him:

YOU'RE WASTING YOUR TIME

I WON'T STOP UNTIL SHE'S LEARNED HER LESSON.

AND TELL THAT COMMANDER HOMEWRECKER TO PAY ATTENTION TO HER OWN HUSBAND OR I'LL HAVE TO TEACH HER A LESSON MYSELF.

WE WOULDN'T WANT MRS. RABB TO FIND OUT.

** Chapter 19 **

**Harm's office**

**A few minutes later**

Harm heard Meg approaching his open door and called for her to come in before she could raise her hand to knock.

"I called Baskin. He's on his way. What's going on?" Meg stood curiously by Harm's desk.

"This." Gesturing to the piece of paper in front of him, Harm waited patiently for Meg to walk over and read. He could tell when she reached the reference to 'Commander Homewrecker' by the way her eyes suddenly grew wide. Before either could make a comment, Staff Sergeant Tibb was knocking at the door.

"You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes, at ease, Sergeant. I need to know what time this was delivered, and by whom." Harm carefully lifted the plain white envelope, careful not to damage any more physical evidence than he may have already.

"Yes, sir. A young boy, blond hair, around 8 years old, dropped it off at 0645. He said he was helping Mrs. Rabb." The sergeant stood at parade rest, hoping he hadn't done something wrong.

"Mrs. Rabb? Did he say anything else?"

"Not really, sir. I asked what he was doing up so early and he said Mrs. Rabb had given him ten quid if he could deliver it to you before school."

"And you didn't find that odd?"

Sergeant Tibb paused, wondering how to phrase what he was thinking without risking his career. "Sir, when my wife and I were newlyweds we surprised each other with little gifts and notes all the time. Sometimes it was a note in my lunch, or on Millie's windshield. This reminded me of that. It didn't appear that this note was anything much different, sir."

"I see. Have you seen this boy around before?"

"No, sir."

"Very well. Dismissed, and close the hatch behind you please."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Harm and Meg waited for the door to latch shut.

"What do you think?"

"I think he's right. Newlyweds send each other notes all the time. On the other hand, security may need to be stepped up a bit." Meg tipped her head, shrugging one shoulder. Suddenly she was very thankful the only thing in the letter was a veiled threat and not biological spores.

"Dare I ask exactly who 'Commander Homewrecker' is?" Meg stepped back around to the other side of the desk and took a seat.

"Well, considering there are only 12 officers in this office, only three of you are full Commanders, and you're the only female among them, I think the choice is pretty clear."

"What did 'I' do?" Meg stared at Harm incredulously.

"Hey, I didn't write the note. Why the hell has this lunatic killed four women?" A twinge of panic rushed through Harm. Did this mean Meg was his newest target?

"Harm, look at this." Meg sat up straight and pointed with a pencil to the line 'until she's learned her lesson.' "Why is it singular? Shouldn't that be until 'they've' learned their lesson?"

"Until who's learned their lesson?" Darrell Baskin asked from the doorway. Having taken full advantage of Petty Officer James' momentary absence, he saw fit to simply let himself in unannounced.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?" Harm took a deep breath. Meg merely pointed to the letter on the desk.

Ignoring Harm's accusatory tone, Baskin strolled over to the desk and perched himself behind Harm's large chair, staring down at the letter. "I see."

"Good, then you can explain it to us?" Meg snarked rather sharply.

"Whoever wrote this note is killing the same person." Darrell noticed the odd expression on both his temporary associates' faces. "The killer is fixated on teaching one person, one woman, a lesson. Something about each of his victims reminds him of her. My guess is there's some association with infidelity since he seems to be accusing …" Darrell looked up at Meg. "You?"

"Me," she nodded. "But it's unfounded." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to point that out. It should have been obvious.

"I'm sure. Nothing personal, but if I were recently married to Mrs. Rabb, I wouldn't be looking elsewhere for comfort yet either." Darrell intentionally ignored the pointed glare Harm gave him. "Speaking of which, where is the little woman?"

"On her way," Harm responded through slightly clenched teeth. His dislike for Darrell Baskin was escalating by the minute.

"I'll take this to the lab. Make sure it gets top priority. With any luck, they'll be able to get something from it."

"I'm not holding my breath," Meg interjected. "Looks like ordinary copy paper, inkjet printer. Nothing traceable."

"Ah, but you're overlooking one simple detail," Baskin replied rather smugly. "This isn't A4 paper. This was probably sent by a Yank, or at least someone working with Yanks."

Harm glanced up at Meg. He hated to admit it, but the man was right. They were so used to seeing US standard 8.5 by 11 paper that they'd neglected to notice it wasn't the longer, narrower standard A4 paper all of Britain used.

"Well, at least we know we're right about one thing." Shrugging at Harm, Meg repeated what they'd all been dreading. "We're looking for one of our own."

"Sir," Beth James' voice came over the intercom. "Your wife is here."

"Send her in."

"Having a party without me?" Mac smiled as she entered the room. Seeing Harm still seated, she followed his lead and kept the meeting strictly professional.

"It seems we have a new invitation," Meg offered, pointing to the letter. "The inspector was just about to bag it."

Mac scanned over the letter before carefully looking at the others in the room.

"Well, now that we've all had a chance to examine the evidence," Baskin's sarcastic tone wasn't lost on anyone, "I'll take this in and see what the lab can find out." Without any further comment, he nodded at the ladies and made his way out the door.

"I thought all English were supposed to be impeccably polite," Mac commented to Meg, taking the seat next to her.

"Apparently they missed one." Meg raised one arm, flipping her hand in an appropriate gesture.

"So what did you come up with?" Mac asked.

"This paper is standard 8.5 by 11, not British A4," Meg started.

"So, we definitely are looking for an American?"

"Looks like it. According to the MP, the letter was delivered by a little boy. He said he was doing a favor for you." Meg carefully watched Mac's expression at that bit of news.

"Me?"

"Uh huh. And in case you're wondering, we think I'm 'Commander Homewrecker'."

"What? Were you two making out in a dark booth at the pub last night?" Mac teased, surprised to see the startled look on both Harm's and Meg's faces.

"That's it, isn't it?" Meg turned asking Harm, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Somebody must have seen us," he confirmed, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"You WERE making out in a back booth?" Mac knew better, but she needed to get them to include her in this conversation.

"Maaac… NO. But we were alone for what, an hour, maybe, before you got there." Harm looked to Meg for confirmation.

"About that long, and I did kiss you hello. I mean on the cheek, but after all, that's not exactly standard protocol. I suppose the dart game might have looked a little cozy to someone watching who didn't know we've been friends for over ten years, and that we've saved each other's six often enough to be in some sort of partner hall of fame."

"Then we're right on two counts. Our perp is an American, probably military, and he has reason to be around Kensington in the evenings. Most likely lives there," Mac counted off.

"And he's easily upset by what appears to be infidelity. That would explain setting the victims up like Jack the Ripper's hookers. He could be picturing these women's broken relationships…"

"Or new ones," Harm interjected calmly.

"Or new ones," Meg repeated, surprised she hadn't noticed that before. "Of course, these new dates are a sign of infidelity to the future husbands abandoned while serving in Iraq!"

"Fine. We're on track on three counts. Now all we have to figure out is who this guy is." Mac sighed heavily. They were so close and yet still so far.

"Ten quid!" Harm practically shouted, straightening stiffly in his chair.

"What?" Mac questioned.

"Ten quid. Sergeant Tibb said Mrs. Rabb paid the boy ten quid to get the letter to me before working hours. We can't find our man because we should be looking for a woman!"

** Chapter 20**

Mac and Meg stared at Harm in stunned silence, both running through the possibilities in their minds.

"Harm, it doesn't make sense," Mac finally spoke up. "Why would a woman be out killing other women?"

"Maybe she feels guilty. She doesn't want to die, so she's symbolically killing herself through her victims," Harm offered.

"Maybe she's just an accomplice. A friend or relative," Meg speculated.

Turning to face Meg. "It must be some friend if she's willing to set someone up for murder," she countered.

"What if this letter has nothing to do with setting up the next murder. What if this is simply a friend helping a buddy pull a joke on his CO?" Meg continued.

"Or get even with him for a dressing down?" Mac's eyes suddenly grew wide as saucers.

"Harris, again?"

Harm silently watched his wife and Meg bat information back and forth a moment longer before interrupting. "I'm not sure we should discount the possibility that a woman is the perpetrator and not merely an accomplice."

"Projected suicide sounds a little iffy to me. Any other motives?" Mac asked.

Harm shook his head. "I don't know."

"Friend or relative could still work," Meg suggested. "Maybe she saw how a buddy on the line was affected by a breakup, or a brother, or even a son."

"If she has a son she's probably too old to fit the profile of a serial killer," Mac pointed out.

"If she's a woman she already doesn't fit the profile. I think we should keep our initial parameters fairly broad," Meg shrugged one shoulder.

"Agreed," Mac and Harm nodded.

"Add women with broken engagements to the list we've already got of guys returning, as well as any women who may have been stationed in Iraq. Then look for any women with brothers or sons who recently returned from Iraq. We'll weed out the friends and family with broken engagements once we've had a chance to look over all the new lists." Harm rubbed his temple. New theories were supposed to narrow the search, not double the workload.

"Do we tell Baskin what we're doing?" Meg questioned.

"Not yet. Let's narrow down the theory to something manageable before we approach him."

"Understood."

**Harm and Mac's Flat**

**1745 hours**

"Hi, beautiful." Harm leaned over the sofa and kissed Mac hello. Dropping his briefcase on the floor, he plopped down beside her, his head falling heavily against the back of the oversized piece of furniture.

"You look exhausted," Mac frowned slightly.

Meg and PO James had spent the rest of the day gathering lists of sailors that fit the requirements and getting personnel files. Mac had come home to spend some time with Mattie. Slowly, she began running her fingers gently through Harm's hair. "It's starting to get a little long."

"Haven't had time to get it cut." Harm had let his eyes fall closed at Mac's gentle touch. He had a headache the size of all England.

"It looks good. Takes a good five years off your age," she smiled.

"Are you insinuating I'm getting old?" Harm opened one eye.

"No, just that you should consider leaving your hair a little longer. It still passes muster and makes you look even sexier." She withheld a giggle at the cute way the corners of Harm's mouth twitched upward.

"Sexier, huh?"

"Mmm."

"You two at it again?" Mattie shook her head as she rolled into the living room.

"At what?" Harm raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. No sense in admitting what he was really thinking. Besides, Meg had given him way too many files to go through to even consider following up on what was going through his mind.

"Never mind. I guess you're cute in a sort of an old people way."

"Old people? That's two people in ten minutes telling me I'm old. I may start to develop a complex, or worse…" Harm very very slowly began moving to get off the couch. Grimacing at every motion, he mimicked someone older than Methuselah.

"Oh, lord. See what you started." Mac shook her head at Mattie just as Harm reached her wheelchair and began tickling her feverishly.

"…or maybe not." He laughed wildly as Mac joined forces with Mattie, turning the tables against him until he was rolling on the floor with laughter, his two favorite women sprawled around him.

"So what's for dinner?" Mattie panted after they'd all collapsed in exhaustion.

Flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling, catching their breath, Harm and Mac turned to Mattie.

"Don't look at me that way. Winning the battle of the tickles makes a girl hungry," the teenager grinned impishly.

"You sure you've never considered the marines?" Harm teased.

"It's always a consideration," Mattie shot back.

Reaching his arm over his head, Harm pulled a throw pillow off the sofa and tossed in it Mattie's direction. "Consideration, huh?"

"Oh, no!" Mac jumped up, biting her lower lip so not to laugh. "This Marine is hungry too and if we start the battle of the pillows I'm going to spend the rest of the week cleaning feathers."

"Spoil sport!" Harm and Mattie called out simultaneously, both overcome with another fit of laughter.

Harm let out a deep sigh before getting up to help Mattie back into her chair. This was exactly the break he needed from the pressure of this frustrating case. With each passing day he wondered more and more how he had ever considered himself happy without Mac and Mattie in his life.

They had a light dinner of soup and sandwiches, and listened patiently as Mattie carried on about how great PT was going. Harm and Mac both knew if it weren't for Mike, she'd be complaining every step. As much as it pained his male ego, he had to admit Mac had been right. Having a 'hot' guy for a therapist was exactly what Mattie needed now.

"Ready to get started on those files?" Finished cleaning off the table, Mac pointed to Harm's briefcase with her nose.

"Oh those aren't the case files." Walking over by the front door, Harm bent over and picked up a medium sized file box. "These are. Where do you want to do this?"

"Did you say Meg has the other half?" Surprise was clearly evident on Mac's face.

"Well, I gave her about a third, and this box isn't getting any lighter. Where to?"

"The bedroom. We can't both sit at the desk in the office, and I have a sneaking suspicion it's going to be a long night. We might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible."

**RAF Ruislip**

**Next day **

**1130 hours**

Meg had managed to sort her way through half the files the night before, carefully separating them into 'viable' and 'unlikely' categories. She'd been checking out the personal histories of all the personnel on her viable list, stationed at Ruislip.

"Commander Austin." Meg opened the door to the BX, her cell phone at her ear. "Oh, Harm. I was just going to call you. I'm about finished here at Ruislip. I'm going to pick up something to eat and then make my way over to Daws Hill this afternoon."

"Anything yet?" he questioned.

"Nothing substantial."

"Skip lunch from the BX. Come into the office and we'll go for a quick lunch next door, then I won't have to change, and you can fill me in on what you've got so far."

"Okay. I can work with quick. What about Mac?" Meg had headed out to Ruislip first thing in the morning so she hadn't had time to report in on what she'd sorted.

"She and Mattie are stuck at therapy for a while. Mike got a late start this morning, he got caught in the backup from a truck accident. Excuse me a 'lorry'," Harm smiled to himself. " And now his whole day is backed up."

Smiling at Harm's attempt to speak British 'English', Meg shook her head playfully before answering. "Works for me. I'll get there as soon as I can." Flipping her phone shut, she walked over to the counter. A bottle of Coke would provide just about the right shot of caffeine to keep her going until she could refuel.

A short time later Mac walked into the Maize Restaurant, her eyes quickly scanning for someone tall, dark, and handsome. Immediately spotting the cozy couple, she made her way across the room.

"What is the matter with you two? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Mac pulled up a chair, shaking her head at Meg, obviously frustrated.

"What?" Meg flashed a glance at Harm before turning back to Mac.

"Do you guys have any idea what you look like from across the room? Nice little tête-à-tête."

"Maaac..." Harm began.

"Harm, I know this is business, but anyone else watching may not have a clue. With Meg running around all day, she's not even in uniform. What's the killer going to think if he or she is watching you?"

"Homewrecker," they both mumbled.

"Point taken, Colonel." Harm had to admit Mac was right. The last thing he wanted was for Meg to become the next target. From now on he would be careful to make sure he and Meg didn't get together outside of the office without a chaperone. "I thought you were going to be tied up for a while." A puzzled look crossed his brow.

"Mike offered to take Mattie home. His next couple of appointments couldn't stay for the later time, so they canceled. He thought the least he could do was use his lunch hour to help me keep my appointments." Glancing at the menu, her stomach rumbling, Mac didn't notice the extra arch to Harm's brow.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Huh?" Mac glanced up, a little surprised at the look on Harm's face.

"Do you think that's wise?" he repeated.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harm. Mattie's just a kid, and Mike knows that. I was just glad I could get here in time to keep up with what's happening. She's going to call when she gets home."

Reminding himself that Mac had been right before about Mike being good for Mattie's therapy, he tried to not let himself worry. After all, they had something much bigger on their hands right now than the possible complications of a schoolgirl crush.

** Chapter 21**

**RAF Daws Hill**

**Later that afternoon**

"I'm really sorry about lunch," Meg held the door open to for Mac.

"I know it's perfectly innocent, but obviously someone else doesn't?" Mac looked down the hall and over at the Petty Officer seated at the desk, stopping herself from asking to speak with the Commander in charge of the base just in the nick of time, she stepped aside allowing Meg to speak. For a few minutes, Mac had forgotten she wasn't 'officially' part of this investigation. Despite the lower rank, Meg was in charge, she needed to take the lead.

Having quickly introduced themselves to the Commander, and explained the situation, Meg got straight to the point.

"I've got eleven people here to look into. Any suggestions you might have to make our search any easier would be greatly appreciated."

"As a matter of fact, housing has an admin here to help cut down on the frustration levels."

"That bad?" Meg voiced.

"Sometimes. There's always a shortage of housing, long waiting lists. If these guys don't have to truck to Ruislip to have it out with someone, our days go much better. Anyhow, Petty Officer First Class Susan Bishop should be able to help considerably. She's met or chatted personally with almost everyone stationed here and living in base housing. If anyone can help you cut to the chase, it'll be her."

Thanking the officer for his time and cooperation, Meg and Mac made their way down the hall to the small admin office for housing. Commander Baker had been right. Petty Officer Bishop was a wealth of information. In almost no time at all they were able to narrow their list down to only three people needing to be questioned.

"Where do you want to start?"

"The Petty Officer said Johanson was on duty now at the motor pool. It's right over here." Meg turned left outside the main door, pointing straight ahead.

Smiling to herself, Mac couldn't deny Meg was a good partner. She could see where Harm and her would have worked really well together. It was also obvious why he didn't mind the General couldn't send Bud, Meg was sharp as a tack, and completely on her game.

"From here we'll hit Ensign Smythe, Lieutenant Martinelli isn't due back from leave till Tuesday," Meg continued.

After interrogating the two sailors, Meg and Mac sat in the car for just a moment regrouping.

"How do you drive here?" Mac sighed, looking up at the roof of the car.

"I don't know. It doesn't bother me. I'll admit those roundabouts took me a few days to get used to…" Meg let out a small chuckle.

"A few? I still close my eyes whenever we approach one. I don't see what's wrong with ordinary traffic lights. Every time we circle one of those things I expect to see Peter Sellers chasing me in an animal costume."

"Peter Sellers?"

"Tell me you've never scene the original Pink Panther movie."

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with a roundabout?"

"Nothing really, it just makes me feel like two gorillas in sports cars should show up any minute being chased by policemen dressed as a zebra."

The two women laughed at the silliness.

Watching Meg pull into the city traffic, Mac shook her head amazed at the ease with which Meg drove on the left. "I'll look over the rest of my files tonight. Then tomorrow we can start interviewing the next batch," Mac offered.

"I'll hit the office first thing and see what I can turn up on Ensign Smythe's sister. I'll pick you up at 0900 for the next set of interviews, and fill you in then on how tonight goes."

"Works for me." Mac dropped back against the headrest. She preferred not to watch Meg making her way through downtown traffic. Just the thought of tangling with black cabs made Mac nervous, never mind on the wrong side of the road.

**Rabb Flat**

**Later that evening**

Mac sat comfortably on the bed, piles of files scattered around her.

"Making any progress?" Harm asked coming through the doorway.

"Some. How's Mattie doing?"

"You were right. Mike escorted her inside, made sure all was well, and then made a very gentlemanly exit."

"Mike may be good looking, but all he sees in Mattie is a sweet kid. You didn't really think he was going to do anything else, did you?"

"Not really. I just can't help being a little concerned. I mean, Mattie's a smart kid, but she's a little vulnerable right now."

"She's had a tough time of it, Harm, but she's not going to do anything that stupid." Mac shook her head at her worrywart husband. Heaven help the men in Mattie's life when she really does start dating.

Unbuttoning his shirt, "I'm going to take a quick shower to unwind a bit, and then I'll help you sort through the files."

"Thanks." Mac nodded without looking up. If she allowed herself to be distracted by her husband disrobing, she'd never get to the rest of the files.

"Did you have…mruch luck…at … dawssshill?" Harm popped his head out the bathroom door while brushing his teeth.

"What?"

Spitting in the sink, he leaned out the bathroom doorway again. "Did you find anything interesting at Daws Hill this afternoon?"

"Some. There's a very helpful petty officer at the housing admin office." Mac sneaked a peek as Harm toed off his shoes and began stripping out of his trousers.

"Good. We could use a break. Be out in just a minute."

Watching his retreating form until she was staring at the closed wooden door, Mac couldn't help but wonder what she'd been afraid of for all those years. Life didn't get any better than this: a good man, and plenty of comfortable shoes.

The shower water was still running when the phone rang. Thankful Harm had finally installed a phone line in the bedroom, Mac picked up the cordless phone.

"Rabb Residence."

"Mrs. Rabb."

"Hi Beth."

"Sorry to disturb you at home, ma'am, but I was having dinner with some friends and think we may have stumbled across something important. Is Captain Rabb available?"

"He's indisposed at the moment. If you want to call back in about half an hour," Mac suggested.

"No, ma'am. This could be important. I don't think it should wait. Susan, that is Petty Officer Bishop and I are pretty good friends. Anyhow, we were talking about how nice you and Commander Austin are, I mean… well, anyway…We didn't mean to discuss the case but somehow we realized you're looking for someone with a broken engagement who was stationed in Iraq before London or perhaps a sibling."

"That's right."

"It occurred to us that someone who's fiancé decided to marry someone else while they were stuck here in London might also fit the bill."

"It could." Mac started shuffling through her files as the petty officer continued explaining her theory. Finding the file in question, she scanned through the available information, her jaw almost falling to the floor at what had been right in front of them all along.

Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, "HARM!" Mac called out as discretely, yet loudly as possible. Already out of bed and searching her drawers for something to wear. "Yes, Petty Officer. You did the right thing not waiting until morning. I will make sure the information is passed onto the Captain as soon as he's available."

Tossing the phone on the bed, Mac hurried to the bathroom door just as Harm came out wrapping himself in a towel.

"Is the house on fire?" Harm asked recognizing Mac's urgent tone.

"It's Meg. Hurry up and get dressed." Mac stepped back by the bed and began changing out of her pajamas.

"What do you mean 'it's Meg'?" Harm followed behind her.

"Beth just called. It seems she and the petty officer from Daws Hill are pretty chummy and started comparing notes."

"I'll have to have a talk with her about that…"

"Never mind that. Look at this." Mac grabbed the open file from the bed and shoved it at Harm. "I can't believe none of us thought of it."

Scanning the file, Harm looked up. "Wait a minute, Mac. Power down. I'll put an MP on Meg's hotel room, and we'll follow through with this in the morning."

"You may want to call more than one MP. Meg's having dinner with that woman!"

** Chapter 22**

"I'll call Meg. Tell her to keep her eyes open. All the file says is that the woman's brother was killed in Iraq. I don't think that justifies sending in the Marines."

"Did you see the blurb where she was ordered to see a psychiatrist?"

"Yes. At first she insisted her brother committed suicide after his girlfriend broke their engagement by deliberately walking into a firefight, but she eventually seemed to accept that it was a regular combat mission and he was just one of many casualties, and not sacrificing himself," Harm rebutted.

"Here's something that isn't in that file. According to Beth, just before you arrived, her boyfriend broke off their relationship. He was a public relations officer on the Seahawk. Apparently he and the shipboard JAG found true love."

"The stressor." All color washed out of Harm's face.

"Don't just stand there. Call her!" Mac slipped on her shoes.

Harm threw on boxers and yanked up his pants, his cell phone juggling awkwardly on his shoulder.

"Damn. She's not answering. Do you know where they were having dinner?" He tossed the phone aside, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I think Meg said something about meeting at her hotel."

"I'll try it." Putting on his shoes, Harm dialed Bailey's Millennium Hotel in Kensington.

Mac copied the address in Kensington from the open file onto a piece of paper.

Harm flipped his phone shut. "The hotel said Meg and another woman had dinner at the hotel, but left together about half an hour ago."

"Did the hotel happen to say where they were headed?'

"The front desk checked with the doorman. He said he'd offered to hail a cab but they said they could walk."

"Her apartment. She lives in Kensington." Mac scooted past Harm out the bedroom door.

"How did we miss that?" More annoyed with himself than anything, Harm didn't really expect an answer.

"I don't know." Mac was still shaking her head as she made her way down the hall.

Following quickly behind his wife, Harm stopped at Mattie's door. "We have to go take care of something. Don't stay up too late."

"You're going out at this hour?" Mattie asked before looking up to see the expression on Harm's face.

"Yeah, it's business." He'd send MPs to both places and pray to God the only reason Meg hadn't answered her phone was because she was soaking in a warm tub. Whatever the reason, he wished he could bring a gun with him, just in case.

"Good luck." Mattie wasn't sure what was up, but she could tell whatever it was, she had better start praying for a good outcome.

"Tube or cab?" Mac asked standing in the doorway.

"We'll hail a cab. I don't want to be making phone calls on the subway." Harm rushed out to the main street, waving at the passing traffic, Mac close on his heels.

"Where to first?" Mac watched as a black taxi pulled up in front of them.

"Ensign Brown's."

** Ensign Brown's flat**

**2130 hours**

"Thank you for understanding, ma'am. I'd rather not be seen in public chatting with you or Mrs. Rabb anymore, especially if there's a chance this lunatic is going to turn around and come after me for ratting on him."

"Not a problem. I understand completely." Meg walked over to look at some photos on the mantle. "Good looking man. Your boyfriend?" she called into the kitchen.

"Which one? The one in fatigues, or the one on the carrier?"

"Fatigues."

"That's my brother Jim. He was killed in the line of duty in Iraq," Ensign Kathy Brown said softly as she made her way beside Meg.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Meg responded instinctively.

"Yeah, he was a good guy. Growing up, he was my rock. Whenever kids gave me any trouble in school all I had to do was turn around and introduce them to my big brother James," she chuckled at the memory. "It's his fault I'm an officer. I was going to enlist out of high school like he did, but he said no. Benefits are more fun for the officers. Do your four years and then come in." The whistling of the tea kettle dragged her back to the here and now, and of course, the kitchen.

"Sounds nice. I'd always wished I had an older brother growing up in Texas. I had to learn to handle the cowboys on my own." Meg couldn't help but smile at the memory of a boy or two she had to put in his place, and right quick too.

Meg continued looking at the photos until she heard the sound of jiggling porcelain behind her. Turning to see Kathy carrying a tray with teacups and biscuits, "Who's the fellow on the carrier. He's not bad looking either."

Placing the tray on the footlocker she used as a coffee table. "That would be Brad. Lieutenant Bradley Birch. He had just arrived at the Seahawk when that photo was taken."

"How long has he been stationed there?" Meg took a seat next to Kathy on the sofa.

"Seems like forever ago," Kathy mused absentmindedly.

Meg watched as Kathy stood up and walked over to the fireplace. Picking up the photo of Brad with a woman and two other officers, she stared at it for the longest time before finally speaking again.

"He sent this photo when he first arrived. We were engaged back then."

Meg looked up suddenly from her cup of tea.

"I should have realized something was up when his letters and emails became fewer and fewer, but I just chalked it up to being away and wanting to make a good impression. It was his first sea duty assignment."

Placing the cup on the table in front of her, Meg studied the woman lost in her memories.

"Eventually the phone calls stopped coming too, and then one day, boom. I got the note that he and Elizabeth were getting married. She'd been with JAG, like you, assigned TAD, replacing someone who had been injured. She was only supposed to be there a few weeks. It stretched out to three months. I thought about finding a way to accuse them of fraternization, but it hurt too much to dwell on it. I'd thought he was the perfect guy."

"That must have been very hard for you. I'm sorry." Without looking away from her, Meg tried to nonchalantly find her cell phone in her purse.

"Jim had only been gone a month when I got the letter. Not even the courtesy of a phone call. I thought I wanted to die. I knew then that I was right and the psychiatrist was wrong. They insisted Jim was just a casualty of war. They almost had me believing it, but after the letter, I knew better. It was all Debbie's fault."

"Debbie?" Meg's stomach was twisting in knots. The hairs on the back of her neck told her whatever was coming next would only sink the last nail in the coffin of what Meg was considering.

"She was Jim's girl. They'd been high school sweethearts and everything. Then she up and broke it off with him just before he shipped out to Iraq. Said she couldn't live with the uncertainty of being married to a soldier. That had always been his dream. It shouldn't have been a surprise to her." Kathy turned suddenly to look at Meg.

"No, you're right. It shouldn't have." Meg froze, hoping Kathy wouldn't notice the cell phone now clutched in her hand.

"Jim wasn't the same after that. He wouldn't say it, but I could hear it in his voice when he called. Mom and Dad passed on in a car accident right before I graduated from college. Jim was all I had left. When those two uniforms came to my door that morning, I knew what had happened. He didn't want to live without her."

Meg wasn't sure if she dared ask, but she had to know. "When did Brad finally break it off?"

"April 21st," Kathy replied without hesitation. The date was etched permanently in her mind. "Excuse me," she called over her shoulder as she suddenly rushed towards the bathroom, tears in her eyes.

Holy Christmas, Meg thought. That would have been only a few days before Corporal Jenkins disappeared. It looked like she had found the stressor; a typical broken relationship. Meg wasn't sure if Kathy was repeatedly murdering the lawyer who had stolen her boyfriend, or the girl back home who had dumped her brother, but at this point Meg didn't really care. She needed to get a hold of Harm and fast.

Flipping her cell phone open the second Kathy left the room, Meg cursed the dead battery. Quickly, she scanned her surroundings, remembering how Harm had complained about phones only being in the kitchen, she darted for the other room.

Lifting the receiver to her ear and dialing the number, Meg froze at the light voice behind her before all went black.

"I don't think so. MA'AM."

** Chapter 23**

"How far is Kensington, anyhow?" Mac asked, exasperated by the constant slowing of traffic. What in heaven's name were all these cars doing on the road at this hour?

"Not very, but you know as well as I do how horrible London traffic can be. This is probably the theater crowd on their way home, or to dinner." Harm had already ordered MPs to both Meg's hotel and Kathy's apartment. He could only hope one of them got there in time.

Still staring out the window, trying to focus on anything but what might be happening to Meg while they were stuck in traffic, Mac reached over and took hold of Harm's free hand, squeezing it tightly. It would kill Harm to lose another staff member and friend. They had to get there in time. They just had to.

** Ensign Brown's flat**

**Same time**

Kathy stood firmly in place, tightly pressing the chloroform-soaked cloth in Meg's face until she dropped limply to the floor.

"You have a lot of nerve pretending to be sympathetic, especially with what you're doing to Mrs. Rabb. Your husband stationed overseas too, fighting to keep you free to whore around."

Kathy stared at the fallen body. Meg was a little taller than the other women had been, but Kathy was no featherweight. She stood over five foot eight and had plenty of muscle. In fact, she had always planned to join the Marines, like her brother had, until Brad talked her into the Navy instead.

Dragging the body as quietly as possible to the bathroom, Kathy thanked her lucky stars for the solid concrete construction of old London. None of that cardboard crap like in the US. As far as her neighbors were concerned, she was as quiet as a mouse.

"You're not as smart as you think you are," Kathy huffed as she tugged off Meg's shoes and stockings. "That other JAG was much smarter. She even told me that the Ripper was probably a woman from a happy family. I knew then it wouldn't be long before she'd figure it out." Kathy paused after removing Meg's slacks and panties and took a deep breath.

Sitting Meg up against the old claw foot tub, she began unbuttoning her shirt, talking idly as she worked. "I actually felt bad about having to take care of her until I saw her with that man. She was just like all the rest. Working relationship my foot. He took her home. She was just another whore. You all are. Can't keep your legs closed, any of you."

Stepping back, she picked up Meg's clothes piece by piece, shoving them into a large plastic bag. It would all have to be disposed of in Whitechapel. Tying the bag tightly shut, Kathy considered Meg's prone form.

"Hmm. You might be a tight fit," Kathy spoke as if the unconscious body could hear her. Leaving Meg slumped naked by the tub, she returned to the living room. Removing the tea and tray from the coffee table as though nothing was wrong and she had all the time in the world, she placed the used dishes in the sink and returned to the living room with a tape measure.

Opening the lid of the footlocker that doubled as a coffee table, she measured the length and depth. "Yup, tight fit, but we can make it work. Can't we, ma'am?" she grinned maliciously.

Taking the thick plastic lining into the bathroom, Kathy lifted Meg off the floor and dumped her into the large tub with an ease not usually expected from someone with such a lean frame.

"It won't be long now, ma'am." Kathy turned to the sink and shuffled through the medicine cabinet. "That's right. I had to send that letter." Remembering her hurry after the last lesson, she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the scalpel that was still in the dishwasher.

Quickly paying the cabbie, Harm turned around and glanced at the old brownstone. "No sign of the Marines yet."

"No. What do we do now?" Mac looked around as well, desperately wishing she could carry a service weapon.

"Well, we certainly can't just stand around. You wait here for backup, I'll head upstairs."

"NO. She doesn't know you very well. Besides, if we're right in our theories, she thinks you and Meg are having an affair. She's not going to take kindly to you showing up on her doorstep. I should go."

"I don't really care if she takes kindly to me or not, so long as she doesn't hurt Meg. And there's no way I'm letting you go upstairs alone to face a serial killer."

"Fine, then we'll both go. At least that way we can cover each other."

"With what?" Harm frowned as Mac stepped closer to the building.

Mac pulled her hands up, pretending to hold a gun.

"Hey, it worked in Ireland," she huffed when Harm rolled his eyes. "We can fake it here, too."

"Don't remind me about Ireland now. We almost didn't get out of that one." He nudged his way up the front steps ahead of Mac.

"Yeah, well, 'almost' only counts in horseshoes." Mac reached for Harm's hand. "Ready, sailor?"

"Let's go, Marine." The two entered the building, thankful they didn't need to announce their presence to get in the main door.

"Let's pray this is a good sign," Mac whispered under her breath.

"I'm way ahead of you." Harm squeezed her hand as he started up the stairs, Mac closely behind him. "I don't want to alert her with sounds of the elevator moving," he whispered especially softly.

"She's on the third floor. Apartment 302," Mac whispered back just as quietly.

Finding the right door, Mac placed her ear against it, before turning back to Harm. "Someone's home. I can hear rustling. Sounds like dishes maybe."

"Go ahead and ring the bell." Harm straightened by Mac's side, still holding her hand tightly in his. He had no idea what they were going to say next, but hopefully inspiration would strike soon.

Closing the door to the dishwasher, Kathy was startled at the sound of the doorbell. Who the hell? Burying the scalpel under a dishtowel on the counter, she softly padded her way to the door and took a look through the peephole. "Damn it. What are they doing here?"

Turning around, she rushed back towards the footlocker, closed the lid and returned the few knickknacks she'd put on the floor back to their rightful places. Scanning quickly for any signs that Commander Austin had been there, she grabbed Meg's purse and shoved it under the sofa. Passing by the kitchen, she flipped the switch to hide the remnants of their tea.

Just as the doorbell rang a second time, Kathy swung the front door open.

"Captain, Mrs. Rabb. What an unexpected surprise." With incredible aplomb, she directed them into the living room with a sweeping gesture. "Sorry I was slow to answer. You caught me in the bathroom."

Harm and Mac walked through the doorway to the living room, carefully taking in the small apartment as they took seats on the couch.

"I'm afraid I don't usually get many visits from superior officers. I'm a little puzzled at what brings you here."

Mac had to give the woman credit. Kathy was so calm it was completely disarming. If Mac's every instinct didn't tell her this woman was guilty, she'd be seriously reconsidering what she and Harm were doing here.

"Commander Austin mentioned to me that you might have some more information on possible suspects. As you know, I've been unofficially helping out with the investigation. Harm had a late meeting and we were hoping we could catch Meg still here to go over the new information together." Mac shifted in her seat, feeling something hard pressing into her hip.

"I see. Well, I met the Commander at her Hotel. We discussed the Harris brothers some more over dinner." Kathy noticed Mac's hand moving along the seat cushion. "She wanted to walk off dinner so she accompanied me outside, but we parted ways at the corner."

"So you haven't seen Commander Austin since dinner?" Harm repeated.

"No, sir," Kathy smiled politely, unsure what to make of their reactions. No wonder they were supposed to be great lawyers, they were probably good poker players too. She had absolutely no idea if they were buying her story or not. At least Mrs. Rabb had stopped fidgeting with the sofa.

"Would you mind repeating to us what you told Commander Austin?" Mac asked, buying them a little more time.

"Not at all. I was just about to take a bath when you arrived. Give me a minute to go shut off the water." Kathy hurried through her room to the bathroom. She hadn't expected this interruption. Checking the body, she made sure the Commander was still out cold. "Maybe a little extra chloroform wouldn't hurt," she mumbled out loud.

"Harm. Look what I sat on." Mac pulled the tiny cell phone up into clear view and flipped it open. "It's Meg's!"

"So much for parting ways at the corner." Harm ran his fingers roughly through his hair.

Standing up, they both began quickly checking around the cushions for any clues to help find Meg. It wasn't long before Mac spotted a tiny leather strap sticking out from under the sofa skirt. Leaning down on all fours, she lifted the short piece of fabric and reached underneath, her arm reappearing with a small black bag in her hand.

"This is Meg's too." Mac looked up at Harm.

"You know, I really liked you Mrs. Rabb." Kathy stood in the bedroom doorway pointing a nine-millimeter handgun at the two officers. "I won't mind having to kill that cheating husband of yours. No offence, sir." She stiffened her shoulders, nodding respectfully at Harm. "But, it's a shame I'm going to have to kill you too."


	4. Chapter 24 the end

**Every Tom Dick and Crazy  
**

**Chapter 24**

"Get up, slowly." Kathy gestured at Mac. "Drop the purse on the sofa."

Instinctively, Harm stepped forward in front of Mac.

"Protecting the little woman?" Kathy snipped sarcastically. "You should have thought of that before hooking up with Commander Homewrecker."

Neither Harm nor Mac wanted to argue that point with her. There was no telling what could set her off further. Right now, they needed to figure a way out of this.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Don't worry. She's going to get what's coming to her."

Harm smiled at Kathy, withholding his full flyboy charm. Feeling a little more confident that Meg was alive, wherever she was, he opted for a new approach. "Let's everybody stay calm. You said it yourself; Mac is a good woman, and a good Marine. You don't really want anything to happen to her. It's the others who need to be taught a lesson." Harm took one step closer to Kathy.

"You're absolutely right," he continued. "What happened to honor? Semper Fi? It's bad enough we have immoral women roaming the streets. They shouldn't be in the military as well." Watching the wheels turning in Kathy's mind as she weighed his words, Harm took still another step closer, holding his hands passively in the air.

Mac looked around almost frantically. She needed something she could use as a weapon, and a way to distract Kathy. Harm was mentally disarming her, but Mac wasn't kidding herself. There was no way that woman would let Harm get close enough to take the gun. Still scanning the room, Mac's eyes fell on a tall, narrow Moroccan teapot setting on the coffee table. It wasn't much, but solid copper probably would make a good thud. Stepping back slightly, she waited for the right moment to pick up the pot.

"Someone has to protect our armed forces. They're good men. Women like that don't deserve them. They don't deserve to live…"

"STOP. Step back!" Kathy shouted, suddenly snapped out of her thoughts. "You think you can use that grin on me to get what you want. Telling Commander Austin what she wanted to hear may have worked on her, but it's not going to get you anywhere with me."

Moving closer to the wall, Kathy waved her gun at Harm. "You heard me. Back up. Now."

"Take it easy," he offered, taking a small step backwards, trying to remain between Mac and the gun.

Mac had other ideas. Shifting slightly to Harm's left, she dipped to pick up the teapot, hoping Kathy was too intent on Harm and wouldn't notice. In the exact moment she grabbed the heavy pot, the doorbell rang.

"Military police. Open up, ma'am!" came a loud voice from the other side of the door.

Instinctively, Kathy turned her eyes from her target towards to the door.

Seizing the moment, "DUCK!" Mac screamed. Rolling over the hard table, she threw the copper pot at Kathy's extended arm.

More startled by the sound of Mac's voice than the pounding on the door, Kathy started firing blindly at the object flying in her direction.

Not knowing what Mac was planning, Harm could only react to her instructions. Diving at Kathy's feet, hoping to knock her off balance, his heart almost stopped at the sound of the gun discharging. Knocking the woman to the ground, Harm heard the door crash open at the same moment the gun hit the floor.

"Mac!" Pinning the struggling woman to the floor, he tried to turn his head, aware only that Mac was no longer standing behind him.

"We'll take it from here, sir." Harm heard the shuffling footsteps, then felt a single heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Mac?" Harm called again, practically lunging over Kathy and the MPs in the direction Mac had been standing.

"Over here." Mac was lying on her back between the sofa and coffee table. Slowly sitting up, her right hand gripping her other arm, blood dripped between her fingers, "The bitch had better aim than I thought," she smiled.

"We need an ambulance!" Harm called over to the MPs, who had Kathy restrained in handcuffs and were taking her out the door.

"Never mind that. We've got to find Meg!" Mac stood up carefully, brushing the blood away from her arm. "It's not that serious, just a scratch." She pushed her well-meaning husband's hand away.

"You sure?" he questioned shakily, his hand reaching for her arm once again.

"YES. Over there!" Mac pointed towards the door Kathy had come out of earlier.

Two steps ahead of Mac, Harm rushed through the bedroom, briefly scanning around the room before continuing to the bathroom. Spotting a fully naked Meg in the tub, he immediately turned his head. Closing his eyes and covering them with one hand for good measure, he called for help.

"Men, stay back. Mac, hurry." Reaching the tub in one long stride, his eyes still closed, Harm bent down, searching carefully for Meg's arm and a pulse. "She's alive. Call that ambulance."

"On its way, sir," a voice announced from outside the doorway.

Catching sight of Harm hovering over Meg, his hand over his eyes, Mac momentarily forgot the seriousness of the situation and let out a small snort. Always the Boy Scout. Rushing back to the bedroom, she grabbed the linens and turned back, bumping into Harm who had returned to the bedroom, his eyes open again.

"I was just going to suggest that," he said to his wife, glancing down at her still bleeding arm. He was worried, but knew better than to bring it up again. They needed to take care of Meg now.

"I'll check on her." Mac rushed past Harm into the bathroom. Placing the sheet over her body, Mac checked again for a pulse, then looked around the room. Spotting the bottle on the sink, she let out a huge sigh of relief. "She's been knocked out with chloroform."

Within a few minutes the place was crawling with MPs and paramedics. Meg was transported to the nearest hospital. Despite having had her arm cleaned and bandaged by a paramedic, Mac had finally agreed, since they were following Meg to the hospital anyway, to allow a doctor to check out her arm.

** Rabb Flat**

**0230**

"Are you sure you're not in any pain?" Harm asked for the umpteenth time as he crawled into bed.

"It doesn't feel any worse than if I banged my arm into a filing cabinet." Mac rolled her eyes for the umpteenth-and-one time.

"You bang into filing cabinets often?" Harm teased, rolling over and kissing her nose.

"That's no way to treat a wounded hero." Mac wrinkled her nose.

"Hero? Who dove at an armed woman?" Harm placed his hand flatly on his chest in mock indignation.

"Who distracted the armed woman in the first place?" Mac shrugged one shoulder, convinced she'd just won her point.

"It was my overpowering skills…"

"You mean my great aim…" Mac interrupted, leaning over him slightly, her fingers doodling on his chest.

"Well…" Harm paused at the look in Mac's eyes. "I suppose the important thing is that Meg is well enough to be released in the morning and we caught Jack before she claimed her next victim." Snuggling down under the covers a little further, he pulled Mac more closely against him.

"I still can't believe she moved all those bodies from her apartment in a rolling footlocker and not a single neighbor ever noticed anything odd." Mac placed a tiny kiss on his shoulder, her fingers still doodling.

"That's why the bodies were always moved in the dead of night. She knew anyone important would be soundly asleep." Harm kissed the top of her head lightly.

"I just wish we had figured it out sooner." Mac burrowed her head into the crook of Harm's shoulder.

"It was good working together again. It's been a while since we were on the same side of the same case. It was kind of nice." Harm tipped his chin further against his neck, peeking down at his beautiful wife.

"Yeah, it was. Even if the case was brutal," Mac sighed softly.

"You want to try and do it more often? Maybe keep one eye on the lookout for an open billet at the embassy?" Harm was still staring down at her.

"No, sir. I have my appointment coming up on Monday with Dr. Hamilton. I'm reserve for a reason, remember? We're supposed to be working on a little Rabb." Mac grinned, shimmying up a little higher and placing a kiss on Harm's chin.

"Well, if we're supposed to get started on Monday, maybe we should get in a little extra practice." Harm spun Mac onto her back and rolled around over her, placing feather light kisses on her chin.

"Mm… I've always believed practice makes perfect"

The end for now.


End file.
